Playing With Fire
by taekwondodo
Summary: KurtNightcrawler and KittyShadowcat managed to get things worked out between them mostly but things have taken a decided turn for the worse and are only going to go downhill from here. No new content, sorry, just looking for a beta. Update soon, I hope
1. Playing With Fire

Disclaimer: don't own any X-Men, I'd have a lot more money if I did…sigh…

After much fiddling I have given up on trying to figure out what has gone wrong with the formatting on this puppy.  Most of the second half of the story is formatted properly but the first half is totally messed up – no indents and the spacing's wrong.  Hope it's not too distracting b/c I have no clue how to fix it - I'm about as close to computer illiterate as you can be and still get one of these things to function.

PLAYING WITH FIRE

Kurt lay stretched out on the small dock by the boat house, letting the warm afternoon sun dry the last dampness from his fur, his tail and thoughts both drifting idly.  He had slipped back into his boxers after his short swim, but the rest of his clothes lay haphazardly where he had let them fall before diving into the lake's refreshingly cool water.

He had little fear of being disturbed, as the water was still much too cold for most at this time of year.   The boxers just seemed a reasonable concession to modesty just in case someone came looking for him.  It wasn't until full summer that anyone not used to the frigid waters of Alpine lakes and streams would risk swimming in the chill water.  Then Kurt would have to share his quiet haven with a dozen other raucous teenagers.  For now, though, it was his own private retreat and he was determined to enjoy the beautiful spring afternoon – out of sight of the construction site that had been his home until recently and away from the unending speculation among the other students over what would happen now that they were "out of the closet" so to speak.  

It had been over three months since the night of the Sentinel incident had destroyed their home and unmasked them all as mutants – 'homo superior' as Magneto liked to style them or, alternatively, a dangerous and uncontrolled menace to humanity according to a vocal and rabid segment of the media, Washington insiders and the population at large.  They were 'allowed' to remain in school on sufferance, but Principal Kelly despised them and didn't bother to hide it.  This led to all manner of not so subtle abuse and discrimination by students and staff alike.  Likewise, they frequently had to make their way to or from school through a throng of picketers at the Institute's gates bearing signs with slogans ranging from the simple 'MUTANTS GO HOME' (_this **is our home, morons**_, he always thought with some frustration), to the somewhat more creative 'WE DON'T WANT NO MUTIES SWIMMING IN OUR GENE POOL'.  The first day someone had shown up with that particular sign Rogue had just about gone nuclear on them.  Kurt smiled as he remembered her launching herself at the man, he and Scott hanging on her arms to restrain her, as she yelled, "Yeah asshole, well you're just paddlin' around in the shallow end anyway!"

The younger students, who had never been enrolled in local schools, were not even allowed to risk leaving the grounds without an adult now – those whose parents hadn't yanked them out of the Institute, anyway – and the rest of them went everywhere in pairs or groups in an effort to discourage trouble.   Adding insult to injury, everyone, right down to little Jamie Madrox, spent every spare minute on the gargantuan task of helping rebuild the mansion complex.  The Professor had, of course, hired some very…_discreet…_contractors for the bulk of the work, but there was still more than enough to keep the rest of them working, with or without powers, for most of the last three months.

Kurt's only consolation in the whole mess was that, amazingly, no one had yet made the connection between the televised images of  a fuzzy blue Nightcrawler and Kurt Wagner, local teenage mutant - despite rather obvious similarities in both appearance and ability.  He had, after all, teleported repeatedly in front of a large number of people the night of the school board meeting that Duncan Matthews and the Brotherhood had crashed and trashed.  He could only suppose it was because people just couldn't wrap their minds around the possibility that a furry blue demon could actually be prancing around in their midst without their knowledge.  It made him inordinately grateful that the holographic imaging technology used in his watch was so uncommon and expensive that it hadn't even occurred to the _government, let alone anyone else, that the monster they'd seen on TV could be anything other than a total, visible 'freak' 24/7.  _

Even though he was still painfully, morbidly ashamed of his efforts to hide his mutant status when Magneto first 'outed' them, he really wasn't ready for the full extent of his mutation to become public knowledge if there was any way he could reasonably prevent it.  In fact, he was starting to get **really irritated with Amanda and her 'let them see how wonderful the real you is' line.  His teammates were having enough trouble as it was, adjusting to their sudden pariah status, and he wondered what they'd make of the mayhem that would doubtless erupt if people found out just what was walking their streets and attending school with their children.  He suspected that Scott's deadly optic blasts would pale in comparison to the perceived threat posed by a living, breathing demon in their midst.**

"Ach, Verflucht," he barked with an exasperated sigh, rolling abruptly onto his back and letting his golden eyes drift up to catch the matching gold of the sun.  "I was **not** going to think about this!  That was the whole point of getting away from everyone," he murmured emphatically to himself.  The Professor had given them all an amazing free afternoon and he was determined **not** to waste it brooding about things he couldn't change or that might never happen.  Despite his innately sociable nature, after almost three months of sharing a very small, metal, sub-basement room with Mr. Military himself and almost every other waking moment with over a dozen other stressed mutants, the silence and solitude of the lake was just what he needed and he was going to enjoy it if it killed him!  

_Mein__ Gott, I am spoiled_ he thought with some chagrin.  After all those years of sharing rooms and even **beds** in cramped circus trailers it amused him greatly to realize that he was actually feeling crowded after only three months with Scott as a room mate.  "Ach, how quickly we adjust to luxury," he mumbled sleepily.

He stretched lazily, his tail switching idly next to him, and blinked slowly up at the shifting colors in the heart of the sun.  He knew his ability to look directly at the burning orb freaked out some of his teammates, of course **everything **about him freaked out some of his newer team mates, but he found it as hypnotic and restful as most people found the flicker and glow of a campfire.  He was just regaining his lost equanimity under its soothing influence and relaxing into a light doze when the sound of footsteps on the path to the dock brought him back to reality.  He blinked groggily and turned only his head to see who was intruding on his solitude, grateful for his decision to slip back into his boxers after his swim when he recognized the slight form of Kitty Pryde strolling down the path toward him.  He didn't think she was quite up to the shock of stumbling on elf 'au naturel' and _he certainly didn't need the embarrassment._

"Guten Tag, Katzchen," he called softly to her, toying briefly with the idea of reaching for his pants and shirt before deciding that his boxers, despite being a bit damp, did indeed cover everything that modesty really required.

"Hey Fuzzy," she called back as she stopped a few feet away to gaze down at him.  Her voice was devoid of its usual…'perkiness'…he thought, for lack of a better word, and her gaze was distinctly mournful.

"What are you doing down here Liebchen?" he asked as he began to push himself slowly up to a sitting position, finding it rather uncomfortable to stare directly up her nose while conversing.  That motion was brought up short as she plopped bonelessly down next to him and then stretched out with her head pillowed on his shoulder.

"Looking for you, Fuzzy Elf," she responded with a hint of a sigh.

Despite a rocky start, he and Kitty had developed a close friendship over the last few months and he was only a little surprised by this unexpected intimacy.  After a brief hesitation, he lifted his left arm – the one she was laying on – and placed his hand companionably on her hip.

"Want to talk about it?" he inquired gently, knowing that, whatever was bothering her, she would have no peace until she had gotten it off her chest.

She heaved another sigh at his question and snuggled down more comfortably, one arm pinned beneath her and her free arm draped casually against his furry belly, fingers trailing aimlessly through his fur.  Looking down, he was startled by the contrast between her smooth, pink arm and the deep indigo of his short, dense fur.

"Yes.  No.  Oh, I don't know!" she finally blurted, distracting him from further observations.  Whatever was bothering her, she was seriously worked up over it.  He lifted his hand from where it rested on her hip and lightly stroked her glossy brown hair, turning his head slightly to drop a light kiss on her forehead.  

"What is it Katzchen?" he asked the top of her head, his voice as quiet and soothing as he could make it.

There was a momentary silence as she struggled to put her thoughts in order, during which she continued to run her fingers through the fur of his belly and side in a **very** distracting way, tracing lightly along the sharp lines of his muscles and ruffling the fur idly as she went.  It felt disturbingly good and he was about to reach out and stop her when she abruptly began to speak.

"It's my folks Kurt, or, not them really.  But, oh, I don't know!  Everything I guess," she blurted out.  He was surprised to realize that he felt tears beginning to soak through the fur beneath her head, she was so quiet he hadn't even realized she was crying.  Instead of reaching to stop her idle ruffling of his fur, he reached his hand out to gently tilt her head up so he could look into her tear streaked face.

"What has happened Liebchen?" he asked gently.  "Begin at the beginning and tell me everything.  I'm sure it cannot be so bad as to justify marring that pretty face with tears," and he smiled teasingly at her.  

She sniffed loudly and managed a faint smile for his mock gallantry.  It had begun, so long ago it seemed, as his way of trying to convince her that he was harmless, friendly and somewhat comical, rather than the monster she had been more than half convinced he was when she first joined the team.  It had since evolved into a running game between the two of them – him flirting outrageously while she made constant 'complaints' about his shedding, voracious appetite and propensity for showing up at inopportune moments with no more warning than a muffled 'bamf' and the faint stench of brimstone.

He again waited patiently while she tried to get her tears under control, gently wiping them away with his large, calloused thumb where they were dripping from her jaw and trickling into his fur.  He knew that she would speak when she was ready and he was willing to wait.  His reputation for being a fuzzy blue candidate for Ritalin was well-deserved as far as it went, but when necessary he could teach patience to a stone.

After a few more sodden moments of snuffling and gasping, Kitty again managed enough coherence to begin.   "I just, like, got off the phone with my cousin Alexia and it's just so…  Oh!"  She squealed in frustration and thumped him sharply on the chest.  "It just makes me so mad!  Mom and Dad haven't been telling me anything and the only reason it, like, even came out now is because my Mom lost her job and it's, like, totally because of me!"  

Kurt could feel her thin shoulders shaking with suppressed emotion as she tried not to cry again and he held her tighter, wishing that he could somehow shield her from the ugliness of their situation.  He suspected that of all his friends Kitty was the one who was suffering the most from their sudden notoriety.  She did her best to put on a brave face and spoke optimistically of working for mutant acceptance, of how the anti-mutant picketers and pundits were just bigots whose opinions were not going to affect how she lived her life, but he was certain that the backlash hurt her deeply.  She had lived a very sheltered life before joining the team, Daddy's little princess in every way, and she tended to feel everything very deeply and to let everyone around her know it.  Kurt was certain that it was not a good thing for her to bottle up her emotions as she had done for the last few months and now, although it looked to be landing him on the receiving end of a thorough drenching in salt tears, he was glad that she was finally letting some of the hurt out.

"Schatz," he asked softly, speaking into her soft brown hair, "how can your mother losing her job be your fault?"  He was fairly certain he knew the answer that was coming, but it might get her talking again, rather than just crying in his arms.

"Well," she sniffed again, "Mom was, like, really upset when I talked to her and she, like, told me she'd lost her job.  But she just said it was, like, lay-offs and then made small talk – you know, like Mrs. So and So's good looking son in college and crap like that," she said, imitating a stereotypical Jewish mother, although Kurt knew that Mrs. Pryde was really nothing of the sort.  Obvious signs aside, he knew just how upset she was by the steady decline in her grammar – they had almost succeeded in breaking her of injecting 'like' and 'totally' into every other sentence and just now she was backsliding horribly.  

She paused for a deep breath and Kurt realized she was still fiddling aimlessly with his fur – now she was running her hand up his side to his chest, tracing the outline of his right pec and then running it back to the waist band of his boxers, only to begin again.  She was obviously unaware of what she was doing and he tried to ignore the distraction as she began to speak again.

"After I got off the phone with Mom I called my cousin, because I can, like, always con information out of her, and it took a while, but she finally, like, told me everything Kurt!"  With this rather unhelpful statement she began to cry again in earnest.

"Shhh, shhh Katzchen," he soothed.  "It's going to be alright Liebchen.  What is this 'everything' she told you that is so horrible, hmm?" and he ran his fingers gently through her tangled hair, trying hard to be reassuring without sounding as though he were making light of her pain.

Her tears gradually subsided into a fit of hiccoughs that he would have teased her for any other time, now he just patiently stroked her hair and wiped her tears through it all while she continued to trace random and vaguely disturbing patterns in his fur.  He briefly found himself thinking how glad he was that she wasn't one of those people whose noses ran when they cried - having his fur saturated with tears was one thing, but snot would have been an entirely different matter - and was ashamed of himself for even thinking something so flippant in the face of his friend's anguish.  Of course the irritation of being used as a combination plush toy and giant worry stone was a small price to pay if it could help her work through her pain.  Besides, it was a good feeling to know that she felt comfortable coming to him; it certainly hadn't always been so.

Finally she regained enough coherence to speak again and continued in a sad and subdued voice, "Oh, Fuzzy, it turns out the whole family's been keeping stuff from me.  They didn't want to worry me.  I had to all but pry it out of Alexia with a crow bar, but it turns out that Mom's been, like, getting harassed at work ever since we got 'outed' on national television.  Her boss cooked up some lame-o excuse to fire her, but it's really because she had the gall to stand up for mutant rights and to admit that she 'spawned' one of those 'freaks.'"  

It was Kurt's turn to sigh as it became increasingly clear where this was going.  He knew it was one thing to feel threatened yourself, but to be the source of trouble for your family was completely different.  It clearly had never occurred  to her that her mutant status would have any effect on her family, and he hated to see her innocence shattered by the cruelty of small-minded bigots.  He'd dealt with being a 'freak' and a monster his entire life and, although it never ceased to be painful, he'd had years to grow a (relatively) thick skin – for his friends it was painfully new and difficult.  

It had been hard enough for most of them to suddenly discover that they were 'different' in such an extreme way, but they were managing to deal with it.  Having everyone else suddenly find out that they were different, however, was a whole new ballgame, and none of them really knew the rules.

He realized abruptly that Kitty had begun speaking on topic again after a brief pause, during which she had come up with some rather colorful and unflattering descriptions of her mother's ex-boss – covering, rather thoroughly, his parentage, his intellectual ability, his sexual proclivities and his unclean personal habits.  Kurt was both surprised and impressed that she even knew all those words, although he would have been scandalized had he thought for a moment that she really knew what all of them meant.  

"…at the market, some horrible old lady shouted at her in the frozen food aisle that she should be ashamed of herself and Mom, like, shouted back and store security actually made her leave – escorted her out to the parking lot and everything!"  She was getting angry now and her voice was becoming increasingly heated, her tears giving way to snorts of rage and her ramblings through his fur becoming less idle and more emphatic.  "The neighbors," she continued scornfully, and Kurt could feel her quivering with anger now, "the _neighbors, won't talk to them and they've actually found notes on their door telling them they should, like, sell the house – apparently their having a mutie _freak_ for a daughter is driving property values down!  And, oh Kurt," her voice broke abruptly and she was on the edge of sobbing again, "they've stopped going to Temple because Mom can't stand it when people get up and leave when they come in.  Rabbi Meier has been, like, really supportive and everything.  He said that if anyone should be tolerant of differences it's Jews, but when he said it people actually, like, got up and left and some, like, even resigned from the congregation.  I grew up in that Temple Kurt.  I had my bat-mitzvah there.  I know, like, everyone, and people have left because of _me_."_

Her voice was so sad and lost now that it almost broke his heart.  

_What price for innocence lost? he wondered.  __What price for the shattering of a child's faith?_

He wasn't even a whole year older than she was, but at the moment he felt like he was holding a little girl in his arms while her world crumbled away around her – she should be worrying about boys and parties, clothes and grades, not about whether her very existence was an affront to humanity.  It never even occurred to him to resent that he had hardly ever had the luxury of innocence to be shattered in this way.  His introduction to the ugliness of hatred and fear had come at the ripe old age of five and it was a lesson he'd had repeated many times over the intervening years.  To him, it had simply become a fact of life, but it pained him deeply to see his friends having to learn it for themselves.  He could only hope it was a lesson that would not leave them bitter or hopeless.  The loss of innocence was a tragedy, the loss of hope, of faith, was unthinkable.

"Katzchen, I'm so sorry, so very sorry."  Kurt held her tightly as she sobbed out all her heartache into the soft, and now very damp, fur of his chest.

"Oh Fuzzy," she burst out, barely managing to speak through her tears, "it was one thing when I, like…thought it was… just me, but…they're, like, tormenting my family too.  I'm just so sick of it, Kurt!  Sick of the news stories about the 'mutant menace', sick of the picketers and the jerks at school.  I'm sick of Principal Kelly and losers like that witch at the supermarket!  _They're the __freaks, not us."  She paused for breath in her tirade and, as she abruptly buried her face in the damp fur of his chest, he realized his own eyes were now brimming in sympathy for her pain.  The spring sunshine which had felt so warm and welcoming less than an hour ago now seemed cold and feeble and he suppressed a shiver as he wrapped his arms even more tightly about her._

"Did you realize," she asked in a choked voice, "that someone's actually suggesting that we should all be rounded up so the government can keep an eye on us – 'for the public welfare.'  There was even some idiot on TV with a sign that said 'THE ONLY GOOD MUTANT IS A DEAD MUTANT' and Rogue saw graffiti out by the dumpsters at school that said 'DIE MUTIE SCUM.'  

Oh!" she exploded, almost screaming now, and he was more than a little surprised that she still lay pressed against him, rather than pacing from the force of her agitation.  "I'm just so sick of it.  People who don't even know me want me dead just because I was born.  I just want to be normal again.  I just want to wake up and find out it's all been a bad dream, a nightmare.  I just want it all to go away!"  She broke into sobs again, pounding lightly on his bare chest.

Through this last tirade Kurt had lain motionless, his hand frozen in her hair, his face twisted in anguish at the hatred and ugliness humanity insisted on proving itself capable of - his disbelief had died painfully so long ago that he couldn't even remember the last time cruelty had truly surprised him.  Still, he had to keep hoping for the best, even if he could never really expect it - hope and faith were, after all, the only things that made it possible for him to get out of bed in the morning.  Faith in God or faith in the Professor's dream - he wasn't always sure which, but either was enough.

"Oh Katzchen," he whispered harshly, his own voice now thick and choked with tears.  "I know, I know Liebchen.  I wish it could be so." 

He was beginning to think that the next time he passed the picketers at the gates he was going to have a very hard time restraining the urge to rip someone limb from limb.  _Yeah Wagner, that'd sure improve their opinion of us, he thought with some asperity.  _

He felt Kitty tense against him, her hand freezing on his stomach as she lifted her head to look him in the eyes.  He was utterly surprised by the look of dawning horror on her face and was just beginning to worry about what might have put it there when she reached her hand up to trace a tear track down his furry cheek and sobbed, "Oh Fuzzy, I'm so, so _sorry_!" and her voice cracked with shame and anguish.

His concern turned to confusion as he wondered just what it was she thought she needed to be sorry for.

"I'm being so, so weak…and pppathetic!  You've had to, like, deal with this your whole… life and you, like, never complain or anything…and here I am…breaking down like a baby after only a few stupid months!"  She was sobbing again now.

She buried her head in his shoulder again and wrapped her arm tightly across his chest as he tried to assure her that he was fine and no she _wasn't pathetic but his words fell on deaf ears as she continued in a rush.  "I don't know how you, like, do it Kurt.  How can you still be so, like, normal, when you've had to go through this kind of _shit_ your whole life?"  Kurt had to stifle a snort of laughter at her choice of words -  imagine __anyone, **ever,** calling him normal._

"I mean it Kurt," she insisted, sensing his disbelief.  "You're not, like, bitter.  You don't get angry.  You just take it all and go on with life and you're, like, the nicest person I know.  I was so totally evil to you when I first came here and you've, like, never once gotten angry with me or anything.  You've never been mean.  I don't even know how you can stand to look at me, let alone be my friend.  I could just shoot myself when I think about it!"

"Nein, Liebchen, nein.  That would be dreadfully messy and such a terrible waste – denying the world your budding culinary genius.  And if you did that who would I torment with obscure movie trivia or humiliate at Scrabble?"  He was rewarded with a small snort of laughter and continued in all seriousness, "Besides, you were frightened, your whole life and everything you knew and expected had just been turned on its head without a moment's warning.  It was only normal to react with fear."  He tightened his arm around her shoulders and once again ran his fingers gently through her now sweat damp hair.

"But Kurt," she insisted, "that doesn't, like, make it right."  She lifted her tear stained face to regard him seriously.  "I mean it Fuzzy.  How can you still be so gentle and forgiving after dealing with this kind of fear your whole life?  How can you even stand to look at me?"  Her voice was soft, her expression so pained that it tore at his heart.  

"How can you not hate me, hate all the stupid bigots who call you a monster just because of the way you look?"  Her eyes were burning into his, the tears running freely down her cheeks.  He reached a hand out to wipe them gently away.

"I could never hate you Schatz," he murmured quietly, "you are one of my dearest friends, nein?  You were confused and frightened when you came here.  How could I hate you for that?  And as for the rest, well, they are confused and frightened too, and I do, after all, look remarkably like a refugee from Michelangelo's _Last Judgment.  Who can blame them for being frightened?  You just needed time and," he grinned impishly at her, his fangs glinting in the late afternoon sun, "exposure to my unique and irresistible charm.  Do you think that might be the trick for the rest of humanity as well?"_

She managed to smile at this, her tears subsiding as a small giggle escaped her.

"Oh Fuzzy Elf," she said with a tremulous smile, "why does just talking with you make everything seem so much better?  I do love you, you know.  What would we do without you?"  And to his very great surprise she leaned down and planted a very gentle, and very wet and salty, kiss on his lips.  She lingered just long enough that he was beginning to wonder if it would be rude not to respond when she pulled back to eye him speculatively.  Her hand was again running through his fur and there was a sparkle of mischief in her eyes as she shifted so that more of her was pressed against the length of his body.

"Do you know," she asked softly with another giggle, "that your fur feels just like velvet?  Why haven't I ever noticed that before?" and she ran her hand up his bare chest in a way that made him acutely conscious for the first time in the better part of an hour that he was wearing nothing but his boxers and she was in short shorts and a _very brief crop top._

"Uh, Katzchen," he began nervously, his tail lashing and his right hand moving to stop the now _very _distracting things she was doing with his fur.

Further attempts at conversation on his part were stifled when she again leaned down and pressed her lips firmly to his.  There was absolutely no question this time as to whether it would be rude not to respond and Kurt found himself returning the kiss with unexpected enthusiasm.  Some part of his brain tried to tell him that he should be stopping this, not encouraging it, that she was emotionally unstable and looking for comfort – he should gently but firmly put a stop to this _now._  An entirely different, and much larger, part of his brain, however, couldn't seem to get past what she was doing with her hand as she again traced the ridges of muscle up and down his lean side, rucking his fur up in very interesting ways.  Her breath was warm against his mouth and her lips were soft and tasted faintly of strawberries – _it must be that lip gloss she's always putting on, he thought, mildly befuddled._

He realized with shock that at some point his left hand had drifted down to rest lightly on the small of her back and his right hand was tangling itself in her hair.  His _verdammt tail, meanwhile, was twining and untwining itself rhythmically around one of her firm, slender calves._

_Oh mein Gott, he thought with a hint of panic, y__ou've got to stop this.  This is Kitty – she's your friend, dummkopf, this is not right!  And he had just about managed to convince himself that he _was_ going to put a stop to things when her lips parted slightly against his and he felt her tongue dart out to run hesitatingly along his lower lip.  Her breath was warm and sweet and the feel of her gently seeking tongue sent delicious shivers of icy fire down his spine.  _

He tried to stifle a moan as he pulled her closer to him, his hand drifting lower to cup her delightfully firm, round backside as he parted his own lips to taste her mouth.  He heard a small answering moan as she opened her mouth farther to suck gently on his tongue and he marveled at how sweet she tasted.  

His breath was now coming heavily and he was increasingly aware of all the different places their bodies were pressed together and of how pathetically thin the fabric of his boxers really was.  _Why, exactly, was it that I decided not to get back into my clothes when she showed up?_

"Liebchen," his voice was low and rough and his accent was becoming thicker.  He tried again, "Kitty," but it turned into a growling moan as she shifted herself above him and he felt her thigh brush against the straining bulge in his shorts.  Her breasts were now pressed against his chest and he could feel her nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt.  Both hands now gripped her waist, holding her above him, and he was acutely aware of his rough, calloused hands against her smooth flesh and the pressure of her body against his erection.  He caught her lower lip gently between his sharp teeth and then was alternating feather light kisses with careful nips along her jaw and down her slender neck to the tender spot in the hollow of her throat.  She gasped as he sucked and nuzzled lightly at her delicate skin and pressed her body down more firmly against his. 

_Oh Gott im Himmel, this is wrong, he thought with no real conviction, it felt so good just to be…touched.  He did pull away slightly only to feel the sweet pressure of her lips as she caught his mouth again with her own.  She was more confident now, her kisses hot and insistent as her tongue danced seductively against his own, one hand caught in his unruly indigo locks as the other stroked and kneaded rhythmically along the firm muscles of his shoulder and upper arm.  _

Her tongue thrust out suddenly to run along his teeth and he pulled away abruptly, turning his head to prevent her seeking mouth from finding his again.  He felt her stiffen against him at this sudden rejection and saw the hurt in her eyes.  He hastened to explain, his accent thick and his voice hoarse with desire, "the fangs, Katzchen, watch the fangs."  She shook her head in disbelief and made an impatient little noise in her throat as he smiled wolfishly up at her, "they _are sharp you know, I wouldn't want you to be hurt."_

It was this simple statement of fact that brought him reeling back to what little was left of his senses.  What about this situation was _not_ going to hurt her?  She was confused and frightened, she had come to him for comfort and support and he was taking advantage of her vulnerability.  It didn't matter that she had started this, it didn't matter how desperately he wanted to prolong the sweet sensation of being touched in any way, it was up to him to end it before things went any further.  He could not bear the thought of causing her pain or ruining their friendship over an impulsive action he was sure she would regret later.

She leaned down impatiently to take his mouth again, but again he turned his head, presenting her with a fuzzy cheek.

"Katzchen," he managed to force out, his voice only nominally under his control, "we _must_ stop this now."  He felt her stiffen, saw the spark of indignation in her eyes and hurried on before he could lose his resolve.  

"You know I love you and I treasure your friendship, Liebchen, and this is not right.  You will regret this later, when you are less distressed and," his voice broke harshly, "and I could not bear that."  

Could not, if he were totally honest with himself, bear her disgust when she realized what she had done.  After all, she may have managed to get past his appearance to become his friend, but he could not believe that she had gotten so _far_ past it that it would not repulse her to think of touching him in this way if she were not so emotionally overwrought.

Kitty looked down at Kurt's earnest face and she wanted to be angry with him, wanted to feel hurt and offended.  How _dare he not want her – here she was throwing herself at him and he didn't _want_ her?  Did he know what Lance Alvers would _do_ for this opportunity?  And he was turning her down?  _

But then she looked again, more deeply, and saw the desire smoldering in his golden eyes like banked coals, felt his hands trembling where they held her and his tail still twining at her leg.  She could feel his heart pounding against her breasts, his breath coming in short gasps and there was no mistaking the bulge he was now trying to hold her away from.  He _did_ want her, that much was obvious, so she forced her fogged brain to consider his words.  

**_Will__ I regret this later?  True, it wasn't at all what she'd planned when she'd come looking for him.  She had just wanted someone to talk to, someone who she'd __known would listen, and she could always count on Kurt for that.  His patience with her rambling was almost inexhaustible.  _**

Even though nothing had changed, she felt so much lighter, more at peace, just for having shared her fears with him.  He was one of the best friends she'd ever had and she didn't think he really understood how much he'd come to mean to her.  How could she regret this?  She loved him, maybe not in a way that would inevitably have led to this, but she did love him and it felt so right, so good to be here in his arms.

It had taken only a moment for all this to run through her mind as he gazed up at her through smoldering golden eyes, watching warring emotions chase across her face as she considered his objections, none of them ever quite concealing the naked wanting in her gaze.

"Oh Fuzzy Elf," she finally gasped, her voice warm and husky, "I could never regret this."

She felt him tense beneath her as she pressed urgently against him and watched his eyes as she bent down to press her lips to his, her tongue instantly seeking.  She watched as the banked coals behind his golden eyes flared back to life and almost pulled away at the passion she saw there, but then his eyes were closing and he was moaning in pleasure at the feel of her body, the touch of her lips.  She ran her hand softly down the velvet of his cheek, savoring the amazing softness of it and marveling that she had never appreciated the sheer sensuality of just touching him before.

He was kissing her back again and she was losing herself in the warm,  musky taste of his mouth against hers.  She let her hand drift from his cheek to trace the edge of one delicately pointed ear and felt him moan against her mouth as he shifted her to lay full length along him.  She gasped at the feel of his erection pressing against her crotch and belly and parted her legs to straddle him, unreasoningly resentful of the layers of fabric between them.  

His hands, now free of her weight, were shifting upward beneath the edge of her crop top.  They were a sharp contrast to the rest of him, large palms and fingers rough and horny with callous from years of trapeze work.  She was surprised to find that the feel of them running up her sides was just as arousing as the silken length of his tail caressing her thigh.  She wondered vaguely if he was even aware of its action, it so often seemed possessed of a life of its own.

She trailed a hand down his side, amazed at the thick layers of muscle on his light frame.  He moaned again and she traced the outline of his abs, every muscle in sharp relief as he tensed beneath her.  She had never noticed how ripped he was, even on the rare occasions when he wasn't swathed in baggy shirts and pants.  The fur seemed to blur his outline, making everything look smooth.  It was easy to forget just how strong he really was.

She ran her hand down further, stopping at the waistband of his boxers then cruising over and around to run down his thigh, reveling in the feel of his fur against her fingers, darting her tongue into his mouth again as she did so.  His eyes were burning into hers and he suddenly shifted his grip on her – one arm around her shoulders, the other hand firmly on her backside – and then with a quick, smooth surge he had levered himself up and over until he was gazing down at her rather than up, their lips never having parted.

She was still catching her breath at the strength required by that seemingly effortless movement when his hands shifted again to push up beneath her shirt and his lips drifted down along her jaw, pausing occasionally to lick or suck or gently rake his fangs along her skin.  She took full advantage of her new position to run both hands over his wide shoulders and down his back, lightly raking her nails through the short nap of his fur and was rewarded when she felt the muscles tense and ripple beneath her hands.  _Oh God, it feels so good._

He was working his way down her neck now, nuzzling gently at her collarbone and the hollow of her throat, murmuring husky endearments in thick German as, shifting to support himself on one elbow he ran his other hand lightly up her ribs to cup one breast, his rough fingers catching in the satin of her bra.

She gasped as he gently kneaded the tender flesh through the thin fabric.  Then he was moving again, pulling her upright against his chest, his mouth against hers stifling a moan of protest at his abandonment of her breast,  his erection pressing firmly, insistently between them.  She wrapped her arms around him tightly, her hands again dropping to the waistband of his shorts and then beneath to feel the firmness of his ass through the velvety softness of his fur.  

He reached beneath her shirt and she felt surprisingly deft hands fumble briefly with the clasp of her bra before it came undone and then he was lowering her down again, his weight pressing her firmly against the wood of the dock beneath her, his mouth pressing hungrily down upon her own.  She could feel his labored breathing and the hot gasp of his breath against her lips and realized that her own breath was coming just as short.

His hand was slipping under her shirt again, then under her bra to cup one small, firm breast and she gasped again, pressing her whole body up to his as she simultaneously pulled him down, grinding herself against his throbbing erection and wishing fervently that he weren't still straddling her.  She knew, somewhere in the back of her brain, that this had to be wrong, but couldn't bring herself to care - it felt so right.

A moment later her wish was granted as he shifted down her body, one knee moving to gently press her thighs apart.  She complied willingly, taking the opportunity to press her crotch hard against his swollen length, feeling it pulse through the fabric of her shorts and feeling an answering throb from her own sex.

"Oh God, Kurt.  I want you – now.  Please," she moaned and was amazed at how thick and low her voice sounded in her own ears.

He started to answer in German but paused, as if trying to find the words in English was a struggle and then, in a soft, deep voice that was almost, but not quite, a growl he managed, "nein Liebchen, not yet."

His lips were now replacing his hand on her left breast, while his hand shifted to tease at the nipple of the other.  She moaned in frustration as she pressed her aching heat against him again, pulling him more tightly against her with a firm grip on his equally firm ass.  The feel of his tail twining around her leg, its tip stroking her thigh, gave her an idea and she moved one hand to the small of his back and then down to where the base of his tail emerged, thick and muscular, just below.  Moaning at the sensations his attention to her breasts was sending through her body she wrapped her hand firmly around the base of his tail and stroked smoothly down its length as far as she could reach.

His reaction was more than she'd bargained for as his head snapped up, eyes shut tight and bottom lip clutched so tightly between his teeth that she saw twin pin pricks of blood where his sharp incisors had pierced the skin.  Simultaneously his entire body tensed convulsively and she felt as well as heard a sound she could only think of as growl ripped from somewhere deep in his chest.

At first she worried that she'd hurt him, but then his eyes snapped open and she saw no pain, but they were burning down at her so intensely that she actually felt a little frightened.  She realized that his breath was coming harsh and ragged and his fangs were still buried in his lip as he panted.  She was just beginning to recover from her surprise when he pushed himself  quickly up and away from her.  The chill of late afternoon was startling against her skin as she realized that his body heat had been keeping her warm.

He was kneeling with his back to her so quickly that it hardly seemed possible he could have moved and his voice was low and harsh with passion and almost strangled as he told her, "_Ich _denke_.  Nein_!_  _I think_ you had better leave now Katzchen."_

She sat up and began to move to him, but he turned still burning eyes to her and almost snarled, his voice hoarse, as though it were wrenched out against his will, "Please Kitty, I am sorry, but you really need to go – _now."  She was not looking at Kurt now, not at her Fuzzy Elf, but at the Nightcrawler, and for the first time in a long time she found him frightening._

She wanted to cry.  What had she done?  But she looked into those eyes burning like twin suns and knew exactly what she had done, and she didn't understand why it was a problem.

"Please Katzchen," his voice was pleading now and she knew that if she just reached out and touched him he would relent.  But, "_Please_ Kitty, I, I have no…" he fumbled for the words, his jaw working, obviously having difficulty translating his thoughts into English.  It was gradually dawning on her what he was so worried about and when he finally managed to grate out in a strangled moan, "no _protection_, no condom," he had closed his eyes in embarrassment.  Now she understood the problem, but that didn't change the almost overwhelming need she felt – she wanted him so badly she ached with it.

"Couldn't we, you know…something else…?" she asked, gesturing helplessly with her hands, her voice pleading.

"Nein," Kurt managed, his voice still a low, almost menacing growl.  "Nein Liebchen, bitte…_please_, I don't think I can trust myself with you right now."  She heard the embarrassment in his voice and saw the almost frightening passion in his eyes.  "Maybe before, but…nein, please Katzchen, please leave."  

She saw the tears in his eyes and realized the effort he was exerting to control himself, to not touch her.  It both frightened and excited her, to have this kind of effect on him, on anyone.   She knew that with one touch she could send him over the abyss, let loose a tidal wave and she would be helpless before it.  She'd felt his strength now, the easy way he'd handled her and she knew that, if he lost control, she couldn't stop him from doing anything he wanted.  She knew, moreover, that she wouldn't want to.  It was the realization of the risk she was willing to take, along with a last, strangled, "_please," delivered from between Kurt's tightly clenched teeth that convinced her to do as he asked._

She moved slowly away from him, never taking her eyes from his face, which was now screwed up in a mask almost of pain – head thrown back so that the tendons of his neck stood out in sharp relief, eyes tightly closed, fangs once again buried in his lip.  As she watched blood run in a steady trickle down his chin to drip unheeded into the fur of his chest she was more than a little worried for him.

"Kurt?"  His eyes snapped open again, twin orbs so bright that she thought by right they ought to burn her.  "Will you be alright Fuzzy?"  Her voice sounded tentative and frightened in her ears.

"Fine, Katzchen.  I'll be fine."  His voice was almost a whisper now.  "Please, I'll be fine, I promise.  Just…go now.  I'll be along soon."  His eyes had closed again as he spoke and she stepped quietly away down the path along the lake, leaving him kneeling there on the dock in the last of the fading sunlight.

She was halfway back to the work site before her fogged brain registered that her bra was still undone and the snap on her shorts had come open somewhere along the line.  She paused to straighten herself, hands shaking, and then resumed her walk, forcing her breathing to slow and her heart to calm, wondering if she would have time for a very long, very hot bath before dinner.  If not, she would have to make time for a very short, very cold shower.

Kurt knelt for a long time in the waning light, listening as Kitty's footsteps faded up the path.  When he was certain that she must be safely back to the mansion, or what was left of it, he finally let himself move.  He had been afraid that if he let his guard down any sooner he would chase her down and to hell with the consequences.  He was more than a little frightened by his response to her and much more than a little ashamed.  He had almost lost all control, he could have hurt her.  

He could feel the anger and the lust blazing just beneath the surface like a furnace and he wondered if she'd seen it in his eyes.  God, he hoped not.  It wasn't her fault, she hadn't known that one innocent touch could send him careening to the edge of nightmare.  One touch, and it felt like passing through heaven on his way to hell.  He felt hot tears of shame trickle down his cheeks to mingle with the blood on his chin and chest.  It had been so long since he'd lost control so spectacularly.  He'd hoped never to do so again.  

She had trusted him and look where it had gotten her.  He had been so certain he could control himself, could do those…other things…she had so hopefully suggested.  _Oh, like that would have made it OK Wagner?  Scheisse, it would be like doing your little sister, you fucking pervert._

The worst part was that, despite the shame, he still burned with need for her, still wanted desperately to run down the path and find her, take her, no matter where she was or who was watching.

_ How can I forgive the bigots who call me a monster? he thought with a shudder.  M_aybe because they're right.__

Normally he was not at all self-conscious about satisfying his body's natural needs and desires – in private of course.  He was a good Catholic, but not that good.  But now it was with a moan and a grimace of disgust that he slipped his hand down the front of his boxers.  _Danken__ sie Gott that at least it wouldn't take long, but he wondered despairingly how long it would take before he felt clean again._


	2. Picking Up the Pieces

Thank goodness there had been time for Kitty to have that bath.  She was much more relaxed and in a much better mood when she finally emerged from the steaming bathroom and trotted down the hall to the small metal cubicle she and Rogue were currently calling home.  She reached into the metal cabinet that now housed her entire wardrobe and pulled out fresh clothes - jeans and a light sweater now that the warm afternoon had given way to a cool spring evening.  Her half of the cabinet wasn't much bigger than her gym locker at school, but this wasn't as much of a problem as it might have been three months ago.  

Her entire wardrobe now consisted of the few things she'd left at home when she moved here and a couple of things she'd managed to acquire since Mystique had blown the mansion to hell - along with her closet and every stitch in it.  She knew it was silly, when so much more important things had been lost, but it still irked her intensely that she'd lost her two favorite pair of shoes and all the nice satin bras and panties she'd saved up for to replace the flowery cotton 'little girl' things her mom had always insisted on getting her.

When she'd finished changing she threw her towel into the hamper in the corner and flopped down on her cot, elbows on knees and her head in her hands.  She couldn't avoid thinking about the events of the afternoon any longer.  

Kurt's words from earlier drifted, unbidden, into her mind, "you will regret this later…" and her own response, "I could never regret this."  She'd meant it then, it had felt so true at the time, but it seemed that all she had left now was regret.  Regret that she had started it, regret that he had ended it.  Regret, like a bitter, ashy taste in her mouth.  That, and a burning feeling of shame.

Why, _why had she suddenly taken leave of her senses and thrown herself at one of her best friends?  She'd gone to him for comfort, for someone to confide in and had come off like some desperate nympho.  _God, I'm not even sixteen yet, he probably thinks I'm some kind of bimbo.  _It was so humiliating!  She'd never, not __really, thought of Kurt that way before.  She _did_ love him, that had been nothing but simple truth, but not as anything other than a very good friend.  In fact, if anyone had suggested to her that something like this afternoon could ever happen she would have laughed.  Her?  With Kurt?  Get real!  And now, now what must he think of her, begging for it and to hell with the consequences?  At least one of them had had the self control to be responsible, unfortunately for her self-respect it hadn't been her.  _

Oh God, how could she face him?  Especially on top of her tantrum over wanting to be 'normal' again.  How could she have been so amazingly callous and **stupid** as to say that to someone who had **never** in his life been anything but a total, visible 'freak'?

She ran her fingers through her damp hair and realized that it was probably about time to head to dinner.  She considered skipping the meal and just sneaking out for leftovers later, but hell, she'd have to face Nightcrawler, no **Kurt**,  sooner or later anyway, and the way everyone around here ate there was no guarantee there'd _be any leftovers.  _

Her stomach clenched at the thought of sitting at the same table as him, having to make conversation and act like nothing had happened.  Could she do it, could he - continue as if nothing had changed?  Or had things changed so drastically that nothing could be the same between them again?  More importantly, did she want it to be?  

She thought about the look in his eyes before she'd left, a burning she'd never seen before.  She thought of the feel of his body against hers, hard muscles sliding beneath soft velvet fur, the musky sweet taste of his mouth crushing hers and the room seemed suddenly smaller and much too warm.  

_Where do you go from here Kitty Pryde? she thought, with something close to despair.   __Other than back to the bathroom for that cold shower anyway._

With a sigh she forced herself up from the bed and headed for the door.  _Sitting here's not solving my problems or getting me fed, so I might as well go on and start picking up the pieces_, she thought.  Somber with resignation as she headed down the cold, echoing metal hallway to the cavernous chamber they were using as a dining hall.  _I can't put it off forever, I've gotta face Fuzzy sometime._

By the time she arrived, everyone but Kurt was already seated at the huge, rectangular metal table and Ororo and Scott were busy distributing the results of their afternoon's culinary labors.  That was one of the things they all missed most about life in the mansion – staff.  The luxury of not having to take it in turns to cook and clean everything.  Sure, they'd always been responsible for their own rooms and laundry and had taken turns at the communal bathrooms, but all the weekday meals had been cooked and all the other vast spaces of the mansion proper had been cleaned and maintained by a very small, dedicated and discreet staff.  A staff which could no more be allowed into the secret spaces of this underground bunker than they ever had been into the secret sub-basements of the mansion complex.

Sitting down across the table from Jean and between Bobby and Evan she filled her plate and forced herself to follow the conversation – all the time glancing anxiously at the door for any sign of Kurt.

"Yo' Cyke," Evan called to Scott, who was returning to the table with the final bowl of salad.  "You actually _burned the pasta.  How is it even _possible_ to burn __pasta, man__?  Auntie O'," he turned to Ms. Munroe with a grin, "haven't you learned yet not to let this dude near anything that actually has to be cooked?"  _

Ms. Munroe just gave him a withering look and took her place with the grown-ups at the other end of the table.  Scott, meanwhile, smiled disarmingly at Evan while simultaneously whipping a handful of _very sticky spaghetti directly into the younger teen's face.  Evan was preparing to retaliate, the younger students all looking on eagerly and waiting for an excuse to join in, when the Professor cleared his throat quietly while Logan directed a quelling glare around the table.  The joint effort quickly restored decorum, or what passed for it at a table full of teenage mutants._

Kitty just let the resuming flow of conversation wash over her as she concentrated on her meal (to be fair, the spaghetti wasn't actually _burned_, it was just overcooked and more than a little sticky) and kept a surreptitious watch on the door to the room.  No one else seemed to have noticed Kurt's absence, but as the meal progressed Kitty became increasingly worried and her watch on the door became less covert and more frequent.  He'd said that he'd be fine, that he'd be along shortly,  and if there was one thing you could usually count on around here it was that the Elf wouldn't miss a meal.  

Kitty was reasonably sure that no one had ever died from sexual frustration before – heck, the way Lance used to talk, if that were possible she would've put him in his grave ages ago – but remembering how Kurt had looked as she walked away, she was pretty sure his problem had been a bit more than just general horniness.  She wasn't sure what it was, but she knew that, somehow, she'd managed to push him over the edge into someplace that had frightened him, probably even more than it had frightened her.

"Hey, K-man!"  Startled, Kitty looked up, wide-eyed and blushing scarlet, as Evan called out to Kurt.  "You don't get on this stuff quick dude, you're gonna be stuck with the veggie sauce!  Where you been man?"

"Yeah," Scott called jokingly from down the table.  "I thought the signs of the Apocalypse went War, Famine, Plague and the 'fuzzy dude' being late for a meal.  You're bumping the order around Kurt.  Should we take your temperature or something?"

Kurt shot the two one of his trademark hundred megawatt grins and answered with a wry, "what can I say meine Freunde, went swimming at the lake and forgot to put my watch back on after.  But you _will_ notice that even without a watch my stomach would never let me miss the meal entirely."

Kitty tried to watch him closely without seeming to, but he very carefully never even looked her way – difficult since he was talking to Evan, who was sitting right next to her – and took a seat down at the opposite end of the table next to Mr. Logan and Ms. Munroe.  He _might not be avoiding her, though.  He did usually stay a bit aloof from the New Mutants, and she __was surrounded by them.  _

As she watched him take his seat and start filling his plate, she noticed Mr. Logan give him a long, appraising look and then raise his eyes to look down the table at her.  Her stomach tightened and she hurriedly dropped her eyes to her plate and busied herself with finishing off her salad.  As she did so, she remembered the _look_ that Mr. Logan had given her as she'd passed him outside on the way to the elevator.  She wondered just how much the feral X-man knew or could guess about what had gone on that afternoon.  With his hyper acute senses, you could never be quite sure what he knew, but Kitty was fairly certain that the answer was a heck of a lot more than he ever let on.

She still remembered the first time she had come back to the mansion after a 'date' with Lance Alvers, and Logan's quietly fierce comment as she had passed him on her way up the stairs.  "Ya smell like Earthquake Boy and his cheap cigs, Squirt.  Ya know you can do better than him, dontcha?"  He had given her an enigmatic look from beneath dark, furrowed brows and then continued down the stairs, an unlit stogie clenched between his teeth.

She had told Lance about the incident later – not the 'you can do better' part, but the rest of it.  It had had the rather welcome effect of slowing down Lance's advances - he lived in fear that the X-Men's resident over-protective sociopath might decide that he'd gone too far with the 'little girl' of the team and give his lungs more direct access to the outside air.  On the occasions when he'd gotten carried away and tried to pressure her into going farther than she wanted she'd only had to remind him of the 'Logan factor' and he'd backed off at once.  At the time she had always professed to be as frustrated by the limits as Lance had been.  In retrospect, though, she couldn't actually remember a single time she'd been tempted to let Lance get past some fairly heavy kissing and a little bit of groping through her clothes.

"Hey Kitty, pass the garlic bread, willya?"  But, before she could pull herself back to the here and now, Evan had reached across her, grabbed a slice and launched it across the table to Roberto, who caught it with a grin and began to munch contentedly.

She risked another glance down the table to where Kurt sat staring at his plate and poking at his food.  Usually he would have been on his second plate by now and maybe threatening to arm wrestle someone for the last piece of garlic bread.  He looked tired, and he was making little effort to follow the conversation at his end of the table, where Logan, Scott and Dr. McCoy were talking with the Professor about some plans for improving the Danger Room during its refitting.  Kitty knew she should have been paying attentions to that conversation as she _was _supposed to be helping with the wiring and programming, but she just couldn't really be bothered.

Kurt had either not had the time or the inclination to clean up before dinner, because he was still wearing the rumpled jeans and shirt that she had seen discarded by the boathouse this afternoon.  His hair was sticking up in odd little tufts where it had dried in the sun and he looked kind of …_fluffy_…from letting his fur dry without bothering to smooth it down.  He didn't look really bad or anything, he just didn't look quite _there, like he just couldn't be bothered, and usually everyone made the effort to show up neat and clean for their 'family' dinner._

Kitty jumped as Evan elbowed her in the ribs and she realized that she had missed out on part of a conversation between he and Jean as he said, "yeah, the 'Crawler does look kind of like something the cat dragged in Jean.  Hey, Kurt!"  Jean was now hissing at Evan with a look of intense irritation on her face as he yelled down the table to Kurt, who looked up slowly at Evan's hail.  "You think maybe you could take the time to neat yourself up a bit before dinner in future dude?  You're ruining Jean's appetite down here." 

Kurt's good-natured smile was, perhaps, a bit strained as he leaned past Ms. Munroe to look at Jean, while making his best effort at a rude gesture at Evan behind her back.  Jean was alternating glaring at Evan with staring at her plate in embarrassment.

"Entschuldigen Sie mich," he said, after swallowing the bite of garlic bread he had been chewing on.  "I was afraid that if I took the time to stop and change on the way in  the ravening mutant hordes down there," he gestured to the end of the table, "might have polished off Frau Munroe's delectable bolognese," and he grinned impishly at Ororo.  The smile disappeared rapidly from his face, however, as Ororo reached out and took his chin firmly in one slim hand.

"Kurt," she said, her slightly accented voice taking on an exasperated tone, "you're bleeding child.  What on earth have you done to yourself this time?"

Kitty saw his eyes widen slightly and looked quickly down at her plate as he reached up with a somewhat befuddled look to touch hesitantly at the spot on his lip that she'd indicated.  "Ah, um," he sounded a bit flustered now, "something startled me when I was out by the lake and I, ah, bit myself?  I didn't realize it was more than a scratch."  He sounded apologetic and slightly embarrassed as he tried to turn his head away and resume eating.

"Bit yourself?  A scratch?" Ororo repeated in a tone of disbelief.  "Child, you've bitten entirely through your lip, what could possibly startle you that badly?  Henry," she ignored his efforts to move his head away as she glanced across the table at Dr. McCoy, who had been following the conversation along with almost everyone else at the table, "I think you should take a look at this after dinner - it might require stitches."

Kurt's face fell almost comically at the mention of stitches.  He had an absolute phobia of needles and yet he seemed to manage to collect more stitches than the rest of the team put together.  At least in his case the fur did a good job of hiding any scars.

"Now," and Ororo raised one elegant eyebrow, "how on earth did you manage to do this to yourself Kurt?"  Her tone was a cross between amusement and exasperation as she eyed him affectionately, still ignoring his attempts to evade her hand on his chin.

"I told you, Ms. Munroe," Kurt said with a half smile and a slight shrug, "I bit myself when something startled me."  His voice had gone somewhat cold and his eyes were flat, but Ms. Monroe didn't take the hint and her eyebrow crept slightly higher.  In response Kurt let his mouth gape open to reveal his razor sharp incisors and explained, with a look of slight exasperation, "they are quite sharp, you know.  It doesn't take much if I'm not careful."

Kitty felt a slow flush creep up her cheeks at his words.  'They are sharp you know.'  The words echoed in her mind and brought back a flood of sensation as she flashed back to when she'd last heard him say almost the exact same thing.

Evan and Ray were giving Kurt, who was looking rather harassed, a hard time about being a bigger danger to himself than he was to anyone else.  No one paid much attention to Kitty when she excused herself and, placing her plate and flatware on the service cart, hurriedly left the room.  No one, that is, except Kurt, who had a slightly sickened look as he watched her leave, and Logan, who looked speculatively between the two of them, an expression of concern passing briefly across his face before it was replaced by his customary taciturn expression.

Kurt made an effort to respond to the good-natured ribbing he was being subjected to, but as Ororo finally released his jaw, with a firm injunction to see Dr. McCoy immediately after dinner, all he could really think about was the look on Kitty's face as she'd left the table.  

He'd spent a long time at the lakeshore, persuading himself that the events of the afternoon really weren't that catastrophic.  Just the result of a lot of stress, a little emotional catharsis and a ton of overactive teenage hormones for both of them.  By the time he came in for dinner he had more than half convinced himself that a sufficiently sincere apology and some light-hearted gallantry would be enough to smooth things over between them.  

He even dared to hope that they could completely avoid the whole tail issue.  She hadn't done it on purpose, and just thinking about it brought him intense discomfort.  He had to force his mind not to skitter frantically away from the subject.  He hated the response that kind of touch could inspire in him, hated the control it gave a person over him once they found it.  So, yes, now she knew it was pretty much the most sensitive spot on his anatomy, but it wasn't like she was really going to be interested in that information now that the…moment…had passed.

He was sure they could probably gloss over the whole self control issue, or lack thereof, associated with it.  And besides, he thought with some relief, he _had_ actually retained some self control or the current situation would be a whole lot different.  Hell, he should probably be grateful for what she'd done, considering it had stopped things before they'd done anything irrevocable.  

_We're friends, after all, he had thought with a glimmer of optimism as he entered the dining hall,_ friends can recover from mistakes and misunderstandings, can't they?__

That thought, and the accompanying optimism, had been pretty thoroughly squashed by his first sight of Kitty as he entered the room.  Her eyes had gone wide when she'd seen him, with what he could only interpret as fear.  She had then immediately looked down at her plate and spent the remainder of the meal trying not to be seen shooting nervous looks his way, her face alternately flushing and then going pale.  Her response when Frau Munroe had noticed his bitten lip had sent a chill of ice flowing into his gut and he had had to fight an almost overwhelming wave of actual, physical sickness as he had watched her face flush again at mention of his teeth, followed by her rapid departure from the table.

_Right Wagner, he thought with biting self-derision, _no big deal.  Just emotions and hormones.  Fix it all  with an  apology.  Sure!  Probably scared the shit out of her with that little display back there.  Now she knows what kind of animal you are, the only real question is how much of her reaction is fear and how much is disgust_.  He really wasn't sure which of the two was worse, but he was quite sure he deserved them both.  He knew all too well exactly what he was like when his control snapped, or came that close to it, and it wasn't something a…normal…person was likely to understand or accept.  Hell, it even disgusted him, so how could it not disgust, even frighten, someone like Kitty.  God, he'd been deluding himself._

_Oh Katzchen, he thought with remorse so intense it was almost a physical pain, __what have I done?_

He forced himself to smile and laugh at the good natured jokes still being directed his way and worked mechanically through the rest of the food on his plate, not really noticing what he ate, nor caring.  It all tasted like ash anyway.  

The table was rapidly clearing now, as everyone finished eating and headed out.  No one tended to linger much over Saturday night dinner, they always had that evening and the next morning free – a rare combination – and the teens were usually determined to put their freedom to good use.  Of course these days that tended to mean nothing more exotic than staying up late and watching movies or playing games while inhaling popcorn and soda.  They weren't exactly welcome much of anywhere outside the Institute's grounds.  But it was the principal of the thing - it was their free night and they sure as hell weren't going to waste it sitting at the dinner table with the grown-ups.  That wasn't much of an issue tonight anyway, as the Professor left with Dr. McCoy and Frau Munroe, still discussing modifications for the new danger room, leaving Logan the only adult lingering at the rapidly clearing table.

Kurt sat staring silently at his empty plate as the room cleared, letting the chatter of the departing teens wash over him as he tried to find the energy to drag himself up from his chair.

He caught a fragment of conversation between Bobby and Ray as they neared the doors, discussing their continuing search for Logan's elusive beer stash.  They were determined to find it one of these days, though what they'd do with it if they did was an interesting question.  No one could really imagine the two were willing to face 'the wrath of Logan' if they actually raided his supply, so it was really something of an academic exercise.  Kurt couldn't muster his usual amusement at their fruitless search tonight.  Usually it was all he could do to keep a straight face when the two went off on one of their hunts.  He did vaguely wonder how they could have spent so much time at the Institute though and still not have the sense to save the conversation for later.  If he could hear them with only a little effort, then they might as well have just held the entire conversation right at the Wolverine's elbow.  

He raised his gaze from the remnants of his meal long enough to exchange a wry look with the man beside him.  Logan was utterly complacent about their 'mission' and Kurt imagined they could probably search 'til Hell froze and never find where the man stored his brews.  Kurt had known where Logan's hiding place in the mansion was since not long after he first arrived at the Institute when, upon seeing the man chugging down a Molsen, he'd commented on his shitty taste in beer.  Kurt had spent his formative years among a people for whom drinking was an art form and (at least occasional) drunkenness something of a moral obligation.  It had left him more than a little opinionated on the subject of drinking in general and beer in particular.

The ensuing argument over the virtues of Canadian versus German beer had led to Logan, not known for his excessive respect for the law, offering the fifteen year old a beer from his stash in an effort to prove his point.  He'd failed, Kurt still had little respect for Canadian beer and they had eventually agreed to disagree about their differing taste.  Kurt had occasionally toyed with the idea of telling Bobby and Ray exactly where the surly Canadian kept his stash, but he didn't really want to be responsible for the potential loss of life if they actually _were_ stupid enough to raid it.

Kurt shook his head absently, annoyed at how his mind was wandering, trying to avoid thinking about his current predicament.  Amara and Roberto were starting to clear the table around him as he pushed himself to his feet with a sigh, prompting Logan to look questioningly up from the wreckage of his meal.  

_Mein__ Gott, he thought with some asperity,_ it's hard to believe that someone around here actually eats as much as I do._  Out loud he said, "I can't put off my 'date' with Herr McCoy forever, now can I?"_

"Not if you know what's good for you anyway," the older man replied, giving Kurt a speculative look.  "Y'okay Elf?"  He finally asked gruffly, surprising the younger man.

"Fine, Herr Logan, I'm…just fine," he answered quickly with a false smile, turning to leave the room.  Kurt was one of the few kids at the school to thoroughly understand and accept the impossibility of lying to or even misdirecting him, and Logan knew it, so it wasn't a lie so much as a request for privacy and he recognized it as such.  The only problem was, Logan wasn't sure that it was a request he was going to be able to honor.  

He watched the boy all the way to the door, noting the tension in his shoulders and the restless lashing of his tail and wondered just what the hell _was going on between Half Pint and the Elf.  He absolutely reeked of her and, even though she'd bathed, Kitty still had his smell on her strong enough that he could catch it from halfway down the table.  That in itself didn't bother him.  Whatever Charles and Ororo might think, he didn't give a flying fuck what the kids did in private, so long as they were responsible and no one got hurt.  He had little doubt that if there was a teenage boy in the place he could trust to be responsible it was Kurt.  No, what bothered him was the body language combined with the fact that they both reeked of guilt, and the Elf had serious undertones of sickness, pain and fear._

Much as he hated to stick his nose in anyone else's business, Logan was starting to think that he might need to find out just what was going on.  He let a noise halfway between a snarl and a sigh escape him as he surged up from the table, startling Amara as she came in for the last load of dishes.  He stuffed an unlit cigar between his teeth and headed for the elevator.  He needed to go topside for some fresh air and time to think.

Kurt had been surprised, not by the fact that Logan had noticed his distress, but that he had commented on it.  He was perfectly aware of Logan's extraordinary senses and had no illusions about hiding much of anything from him.  He was also, however, just as aware of the older mutant's almost fanatical respect for personal privacy and so had been startled by his inquiry.  

It occurred to him that, depending on how much distress Kitty was radiating, Logan might have been fishing for a confession of wrongdoing and an abject apology in order to avoid having to beat one out of him.  It could be hard to tell with Logan – his expression didn't change all that much from an ostensibly friendly "hello" to an attempt to rip someone a new asshole.

He suppressed a moment's panic at the thought as he headed rapidly down the echoing corridor to Dr. McCoy's temporary office.  If Logan wanted to give him a good ass-whipping on Kitty's behalf then he really couldn't object.  Neither, however, was he about to talk about what had happened that afternoon with anyone – with the possible exception of the injured party herself.  After her reaction at dinner tonight though, he was thinking that it might be best to give her a wide berth for a while.  She apparently didn't need his presence reminding her of what had occurred between them and Kurt had no intention of causing her any more pain than he already had.  How on earth was he ever going to manage to pick up the pieces of this mess?  With that cheerful thought in mind, he headed off to face Dr. McCoy and his dreaded needle.

Kurt lay on his bed, eyes glowing like coals in the dark of the small room.  It wasn't late, really, but he had no desire to be social.  He didn't really want to face any of his friends, but the possibility of running into Kitty made him feel physically ill.  He rubbed absently at his lip in agitation, it hurt more from Herr McCoy's stitches than it had from his teeth

He shifted restlessly as he tried not to let himself think of how good it had felt to be touched, and not just sexually.  He would gladly relinquish every heavenly and erotic sensation he'd experienced that afternoon in exchange for the innocent intimacy of Kitty's head on his shoulder, seeking nothing more than the comfort of friendship.  

He was an incredibly tactile creature, and he craved the comfort of touch with an intensity that he would never let his team mates see.  He missed the casual intimacy and physical affection he had shared with his closest friends during his circus days.  He had had a somewhat deserved reputation among those he was truly comfortable with for appropriating any available lap, male or female, young or old.  The close quarters and intense physical demands of circus life had created many opportunities for touch.  Hell, he'd shared a bed, much less a room, with at least one other person at all times until he was almost thirteen years old, a little detail he hadn't bothered to share with his new team mates.  When he'd first come to the Institute and discovered that his _room was larger than the entire caravan he had shared with two room-mates for almost three years he had been amazed.  He was so lonely at night the first few weeks that he had almost had panic attacks._

He supposed that was part of the reason that he couldn't ever manage to stay away from Tabby for very long.  Why he stayed with Amanda even as it became more and more apparent that what she found attractive was his mutation rather than him.  He knew how pathetic that was, he'd been there before, but she and Tabby were two of the only people who'd ever really _touched _him since he'd come to America and he couldn't bring himself to walk away from it, even when he knew he should.

He understood his current team mates' hesitancy to touch him – he was, after all, alien, a _freak.   The worst case scenario of the mutant they were all glad as hell they'd never have to be.  Some of them probably even had nightmares of turning into something like him, their mutation evolving until they too were a monster.  Especially since they all knew it could conceivably happen, they'd seen it happen to the Beast_. __

_ He also knew that most people didn't have his need for physical closeness, but he still keenly felt the lack.  This afternoon he had been so close to establishing a relationship with Kitty that would have filled some of that vacuum, if he hadn't completely destroyed his chances by taking things too far.  _

_Not much chance she'll feel comfortable enough to get that close to me again, or close to me at all, he thought with some bitterness.  He buried his face in his pillow and tried to banish the memories and sensations of that afternoon from his mind.  It was a long time before he finally managed to get to sleep._


	3. Dreams and Nightmares

 DREAMS AND NIGHTMARES

"Face it, you're an animal, a freak.  This is as good as it's ever going to get for you."  The voice was soft and deep and dripped with acid.

_No!  I'm not an animal.  I'm not!  He wanted to scream it but dared not make a sound.  He knew the only answer would be pain.  He choked back the tears and struggled to remain silent.  Silence was a victory and he sorely needed any victories he could manage._

"You think anyone _normal will ever want to touch you this way freak?"  He felt himself go rigid and then limp as a large hand stroked firmly from the base of his tail all the way out to the delicate spade tip.  He stifled a moan that was almost a growl and tried to ignore the voice, the hand._

_I am **not** an animal!_

"You like that, don't you freak?  You don't want to, but you do.  You know you can't hide it from me you filthy little animal."  The voice was harsh and biting, taking pleasure in his pain and fear.

A whisper now, "touching you is just one really short step from doing it with one of  'Tonio's tigers or the organ grinder's monkey.  You know that, don't you?  Maybe you should be out there in a cage with the other animals, hmm?"  The hand shifted with the voice - a whisper soft ruffling of his fur, tracing the edge of one delicate, pointed ear, and then his tail again.

_Oh God, please don't.  He knew he was hyperventilating but he couldn't stop and he still dared not make a sound.  _Oh please, oh please, ohpleaseohpleaseoh…God!  _He felt his knees give way with a moan and heard the darkly satisfied laugh behind him.  He knew what was coming next and screwed his eyes shut tight against the tears and the pain._

The hand was on his shoulder, holding him.  No, shaking him and then….

"Kurt?  Hey, Kurt.  Wake up man.  Come on, it's just a nightmare."  Scott was starting to get worried that he couldn't wake the younger boy when suddenly a pair of brilliant gold eyes snapped open just inches from his own.  Kurt's strong, three-fingered hand shot up and grabbed him by the wrist, throwing off the hand he'd been using to shake him awake.

He almost jumped backwards at the look of rage and hatred he saw burning in the smaller teen's eyes.  Those golden eyes might be alien, but sometimes they were no harder to read than any others and that wasn't at all what he'd expected to see in them.  Not considering that it was whimpers of fear and pain that had drawn his attention when he'd entered the small room they shared.

"Kurt?  Kurt, it's me, Scott.  It's okay."  Kurt's only response was to backpedal frantically up the bed until his progress was halted by his collision with the headboard.  Scott wasn't sure what the other boy was seeing or hearing, but it sure as hell wasn't him.  He was just about to try a mental 'shout' for help to Jean or the Professor, when Kurt blinked slowly once, then again, and he watched as the anger drained visibly from the eerie golden eyes, to be replaced by recognition and confusion.

"Scott?  Was…?" and suddenly the younger boy was struggling frantically up from the tangled wreckage of his bed and shoving past him for the door, a look of panic on his face.

"Kurt, wait!"  Scott ran after him, wondering if this time he should call for help, but his friend only made a sharp left as he hit the corridor and disappeared through the door into the small bathroom across the hall.  By the time Scott reached the door he could clearly hear the unmistakable sound of Kurt being violently ill.

His first impulse at that point was to hope like hell the kid had made it to the toilet and get as far away as possible before the power of suggestion had him in there heaving too.   He went with his second choice, however, and stuck his head cautiously through the door into the still dark room beyond.  The sound of vomiting had stopped and he could hear the other boy's labored breathing now.

"Kurt?  You okay buddy?"  _Oh that's a good one, Summers.  Sure he's okay, that's why he's in here puking his guts out genius._  _Try again.  "You need anything?  Should I get Ms. Munroe or Dr. McCoy?"_

Kurt sat slumped against the wall, letting the feel of the cold tile soak through his fur, concentrating on the pounding of his heart and the taste of bile on his tongue.  Anything to chase the lingering images of his dreams –_nightmares_- from his mind.  He heard Scott's voice in the darkness from somewhere near the door and was glad the older boy had not turned on the light, he didn't feel suited for the light just now.  He tried to answer his friend's question, but the touch of phantom hands sent him surging back up just in time, his stomach surprising him by finding something more to eject.

When the wave of sickness passed he sank down again, exhausted and shaking.  It was a while, he didn't know how long, before he could catch his breath to answer the question Scott had just repeated.

"Nein, mein Freund.  I'm okay."  His voice was shaking and he knew he didn't sound okay.  _Please, Scott, please just leave me be._  "Don't disturb anyone at this hour.  It's just the stomach flu or something.  I wasn't feeling well before bed."  He hated lying to his friend and team leader, but he certainly wasn't going to tell him the truth.  _Like that'd go over well.  His cock-eyed smile was bitter and self-mocking as he envisioned _that_ conversation.  __No, there are some things our Fearless Leader just __doesn't need, or want, to know. _

He lost any further questions or offers of help Scott was voicing as he slipped off the t-shirt he'd worn to bed and used it to scrub wearily at his face.  The stitches in his lip had torn a bit and he could taste the coppery bitterness of blood.  He let Scott's voice wash over him, not listening to the words so much as letting the sound of his friend's concern push some of the tatters of nightmare from his consciousness.  So long as he didn't go back to sleep, he should be fine now.  The fear was only for the dream, the rage he always felt on waking had slipped away, and the last of the sickness would disappear with the last of the memories and those he could chase away, or outrun.  God, it had been such a long time since he'd had to deal with this particular corner of his own personal hell.

He was vaguely aware of telling Scott something, placating him with excuses and a promise to see Dr. McCoy in the morning if he was still sick.  Finally, gratefully, he heard the soft thump of the door closing and the quiet pad of Scott's bare feet as he crossed the hall and returned to bed, leaving him in darkness and solitude.

He staggered to his feet, his stomach protesting the change in altitude, flushed the toilet, and tossed his soiled shirt into the hamper by the shower - reminding himself as he did so to make sure that he did that particular load of laundry.  He briefly considered the idea of a shower, but rejected it in favor of sticking his head under the tap in one of the sinks.  The cold water running down his neck helped ground him further in the here and now, pushing the memory of rough hands and a cold voice one step further into the darkened corners of his psyche.  He resisted the urge to shake like a dog and instead scrubbed his face and hair into some facsimile of dryness with a towel, which promptly followed his shirt into the laundry basket.  That done, he stood for a moment in the cold, dark silence to collect his thoughts, but it didn't take long for memory and nightmare to come scrabbling at the corners of his still shaky composure.  

In the mansion, he would have known what to do.  He would have been in the Danger Room by now, running one of the programs Logan had made for him not long after he first arrived.  Pushing himself until the need to focus on nothing but the task at hand drove everything else from his mind, and continuing until exhaustion – physical and mental – finished the job, and he could sleep and know the nightmares wouldn't return.  Now he suppressed a moan along with a rising tide of nausea as, head down, face screwed up and hands clenched tightly in his hair, he searched his mind for a tool to keep the nightmares at bay.  He didn't have the access codes to the 'mini' Danger Room at this site, and it didn't have his programs anyway.  There'd been no time for it in the months they'd spent in these temporary quarters and he'd had no need for that…release…for months now.  Tonight, though, tonight he'd have to improvise.

With the quiet rush of air filling a vacuum he was gone, leaving nothing but a rapidly dissipating cloud of purplish gray smoke in his place.

Kitty shivered at the delicious caress of velvet soft fur against her skin.  She ran her fingers through the thick nap of it across his shoulders and pulled him down to her, one hand tangling itself in the indigo silk of his hair.  She stifled a moan as their lips met and parted and she tasted the musky sweetness of his mouth.  Strong, calloused hands skimmed across her breasts and belly, leaving trails of fire along her flesh.  She ran her hands down his back, luxuriating in the softness of his fur and the rippling muscles beneath her fingers.  

Moaning again, her hands reached down to grasp his backside, pulling him down so she could feel his erection press against her hot, moist center.  Golden eyes blazed down into her own and she thought, vaguely, that she should be afraid, but wasn't.  A gentle, three fingered hand traced the line of her jaw then slipped lightly down her neck to cup one small, firm breast and she pulled him more urgently against her, wanting him inside her, filling and stretching her.  Knowing that he wanted it too.

She felt as though every nerve in her body was on fire as he shifted above her, preparing to enter her and…

Something hit her solidly upside the head once, then again.  She mewled in protest and put both arms up to protect her face and head as gentle blows rained repeatedly down on her and an irritated voice penetrated the fog enveloping her brain.

Protesting blearily she struggled upright in her cot, reluctantly slipping from her dream into the reality of her room mate pummeling her thoroughly with her pillow accompanied by a non-stop torrent of half serious complaints and imprecations

"Y'know, some people 'round here are trying ta sleep ya little hussy," came Rogue's soft drawl.

Kitty was starting to go bright red with mortification.  My God, what had Rogue heard?  What had she said?

_Oh God, I didn't, like, say his name, did I?_

"It's bad enough watchin' everyone at school crawlin' all over each other all day without having ta listen ta yur fantasies all night long, you perv."

Now Kitty heard the laughter in the older girl's voice and, as her shock wore off and her embarrassment escalated, she unwrapped her arms from around her head and dove for her own pillow.

"Oh, you are so dead, Rogue!" she squealed, only half joking.  "That was, like, the best dream I've had in ages and you _ruined it."  She was giving as good as she got now, driving the older girl back with a flurry of blows to her head and body._

"Ah know it was gooood, roomie.  Ah've been listenin' to ya half the night and Ah figured if Ah didn't wake you up soon Ah was goin' ta know a heck of a lot more about yur fantasy life than Ah really care to."

There were now random feathers drifting around the room as the girls' pillows slowly deteriorated under the abuse they were being subjected to, but neither of the two were inclined to stop.  Kitty had to force her words out around squeals of laughter, "You know there…are…less, like….traumatic ways to….like….wake someone up….from a dream, Rogue!"

"Yeah, but Ah was afraid that if Ah got close enough to use any of  'em y'all just might decide ta incorporate _me inta yur dream.   Just be glad Ah didn't go with mah first idea.  Ah almost went ta find a bucket of water ta cool ya off with!"_

Kitty dropped her pillow and collapsed onto her cot with a thump, feathers drifting randomly around her, clutching at her sides, laughing too hard to continue either the pillow fight or the conversation.  Rogue let her pillow dangle forgotten from one hand as she waved feathers from her face and struggled to speak through gales of laughter.

"Oh, Kitty, yah should've seen yur face when y'all woke up girl!  You literally didn't know what hit you."

"Yeah," Kitty managed to force out between gasps for breath, "well let's see how you do next time I wake you up from a dream with a pillow upside the head."

"You wouldn't!" Rogue exclaimed in mock horror.

"Oh yeah, try me," Kitty replied with an attempt at an evil grin.

"Y'know, seein' as how ya kept me awake half the night listenin' to ya havin' all kinds o' fun in dreamland, seems like the least ya'll can do is tell me just who the lucky object o' your affections, or at least fantasies, is."  Rogue stated with a smirk as she came over to drop next to Kitty on the small cot.

Kitty's laughter died almost immediately.  She and Rogue had, surprisingly, gotten fairly close, especially since they'd become room mates.  They gossiped and talked about boys and sex as much as any other teenage girls (maybe more, given Rogue's unique limitations), but Kitty didn't think she was really ready to confess to her friend that she had developed a sudden and obsessive fixation on a certain blue, fuzzy team mate of theirs, especially since she had no idea whether it would ever be anything more than just a fantasy.

"Oh God," Rogue said, still laughing, "that response can only mean it's someone Ah know.  Just please tell me it's not Lance.  Even you have ta' admit what a slime ball he is now."

"Ew, God no!" Kitty denied hurriedly.  "No way would I be thinking about Lance that way at all.  Heck, I hardly ever thought of him _that way_ even when were actually dating."

"Oh thank God," Rogue declared with feeling, "'cause that woulda just about grossed me out as far as Ah could go.  But if it's not Mr. "Ah'm gonna rock your world' then who is it, huh?  Come on, fess up."

"None of your business, you snoop," Kitty replied with as much dignity as she could muster.  "A lady doesn't kiss and tell."

"Kiss and tell, eh?" Rogue inquired with a satisfied smirk.  "So whoever this dream guy is, you've kissed him, have you?  Oh, this is too good."  She looked thoughtful for a moment.  "It can't be Scott, 'cause he's so stuck on Jean Ah don't think he even realizes that other girls exist.  Jamie's too young."  Her face lit up with malicious humor, "It's not Roberto, is it?  That boy'll go after anythin' with boobs."

"Oh Rogue, give it a rest!"  Kitty exclaimed, laughing at her description of the Brazilian boy.  "I am _not_ going to tell you."  It was good to see the older girl laughing, even if it was at her expense in the middle of the night.

"Ah knew Ah should've left you dreamin' a bit longer, girl.  Just a few more minutes and Ah'm sure you would've been moanin' his name clear as day and Ah wouldn't be sittin' here in suspense."  Rogue almost doubled over laughing at the look of shock and the crimson flush accompanying it on Kitty's face.  "Oh jeez, Kitty, you know Ah wouldn't do that!  Hell, that's why Ah woke you up in the first place.  Figured Ah didn't really need that much information.

Kitty's embarrassment only deepened when there was a knock on the door followed by Scott's voice.  "You two decent?"

"No," Rogue replied with a grin, "we're sittin' here nekkid' thinkin' 'bout doin' the nasty with you Scott."  She paused briefly for effect then called, "'course we're decent you eedjit, come on in."

The door opened just enough to admit Scott's head as he peered around it, his face visibly flushed in the light seeping in from the hallway.  Kitty started to laugh at the obvious discomfort Rogue's comment had caused him.

"Very funny Rogue," he said with a rueful grin as he glanced around the room, taking in the feathers still drifting lazily on the currents from the ventilation system as well as the two flushed girls sitting on the bed.  He was surprised to see that Kitty was wearing someone's tatty old cast-off t-shirt, probably Logan's from the size of it.  Rogue, however, was predictably covered from wrists to ankles in lightweight gray flannel pyjamas.  "Anyway, I heard the…commotion…in here and I just thought I'd make sure you two weren't doing each other in or anything.  Don't often hear that kind of ruckus at two in the morning after all."

"Nah, we're fine," Rogue replied in an offhand fashion.  "Just couldn't sleep and decided ta blow off a little steam.  How 'bout you,  Scott?  What're you doin' wanderin' the halls at two in the mornin'?  Bein' our 'fearless leader' givin' you insomnia or somethin'?"

Scott barked a laugh at that.  "Not likely," he replied, running his hands through tousled hair, "I like my sleep too much to let a little thing like stress interfere with it."  He paused to yawn and Kitty realized with some surprise that he was still fully clothed.  "Seriously, though, I got up with Kurt.  He's got the stomach flu or something, and it's giving him nightmares.  It's a good thing I woke him up when I did or, from the sounds of it, I don't think he would've made it to the bathroom before he started heaving.  I don't know about you guys, but personally, that's not something I want to wake up to."  Scott didn't feel the need to mention that the reason he'd been up to notice his roomie's discomfort was that he'd been in the rec room with Jean until half past one.

"Oh, TMI!" Rogue responded, scrunching her face up in disgust at the turn the conversation had taken.  "God, guys will just talk about anythin', won't they?  Well, if y'all  will excuse me, some people 'round here would like ta get some sleep."  She mock glared at Scott as she headed for her bed.

"Yeah, well, some people might want to think about cleaning up all the feathers first, before they get sucked into the ventilation system and start recirculating all over the place," he responded with a grin and a meaningful look around the room.  The instant the door had closed behind him Kitty and Rogue both burst into peals of laughter again.

"Oh, did you see the look on his face when he stuck his head in?"  Kitty gasped.  "I think you just about gave him a heart attack with that image Rogue!"

"I heard that," came Scott's muffled voice from the corridor outside.

"Well take your little perv self off to listen at someone else's door, Scott Summers," Rogue called back, still laughing so hard that it was almost, but not quite, unintelligible.

Accompanied by intermittent bursts of laughter, the two girls began to gather the bits of feather drifting all around their small room.  Kitty didn't really believe Scott's comment about them recirculating through the bunker, but neither of them really wanted to swallow one in their sleep.

It took almost twenty minutes before they were fairly sure they'd collected and disposed of all the little downy bits during which time they'd discussed several, mostly lascivious, reasons for Scott to have been up and dressed at two in the morning.  Finally, though, they were finished and, still giggling, the two teens climbed back into their beds.

"G'night Rogue," Kitty called softly through the darkness.

"'night," Rogue replied.  "Oh, and Kitty, if y'all're gonna have any more of those _interestin__' dreams, could you try ta wait until _after_ Ah've gotten ta sleep?"_

Kitty felt herself go scarlet and stifled another burst of laughter.  

"I'll try, but I can't make any promises," she replied, listening to the sounds of Rogue's even breathing as she drifted off to sleep.  It took Kitty considerably longer before sleep reclaimed her and considering where her thoughts were going as she finally drifted off, she thought it was very lucky that Rogue had managed to get to sleep first.


	4. Hide and Seek

HIDE AND SEEK

       Sergeant Eli Masters crouched uncomfortably in the branches of a large oak tree.  He had his binoculars up and was systematically scanning a two hundred yard section of the wall surrounding the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters and the grounds beyond.  Just as he'd been doing six hours a night, six out of every seven nights for the past two and a half months.  Just as almost two dozen others were doing at different spots along the entire perimeter of this _Institute around the clock, seven days a week.  Just as they would all continue to do until they figured out how the **hell** to get at the damn fuzzy blue teleporter that the brass wanted so bad they were willing to pour these kind of man-hours into getting their hands on him._

            Masters refocused his binocs on the forest behind the wall again.  His alternate and three others had reported seeing the target in the woods last night, running like all the hordes of hell were on his hells, even teleporting intermittently.  They'd pulled in back-up and been prepared to move on a moment's notice if an opportunity presented itself.  Unfortunately it'd never come close enough to the perimeter for them to risk a capture attempt.

       They'd tried to get past the place's automated defenses a few times in the first weeks - always under cover of anti-mutant protesters attempting vandalism- but had never succeeded in getting far enough onto the grounds to matter.  They had learned enough from the experience to know exactly how far they could risk trying to penetrate for a capture and how long they'd have to accomplish it, but so far their quarry had never come within their safe range under acceptable circumstances.

       Masters was getting the impression from the lieutentant that the brass were getting impatient waiting for their new toy.  Of course, they'd been impatient ever since the botched capture attempt in Germany almost nine months ago.  Masters figured they were lucky to be getting a second shot at the little shit at all, considering how completely it'd disappeared after Winzeldorf, but the brass didn't give a flying fuck what he thought.

       If it hadn't been for that news coverage exposing the mutants at this 'Institute' they probably **never would have found the little bugger, and God knows they hadn't managed to find any other frikkin teleporters.  Telepaths were a dime a dozen as were energy converters of one kind or another, though most weren't powerful enough to be worth bothering with.  But in all the mutants they'd checked out and/or captured over the years, the Organization had never found another teleporter.  They were even rarer than the healers, 'cause Masters knew of at least three of those.  The brass wanted the little girl who could walk through walls too, if they could get her without too much trouble.  But they wanted the freak of nature more - her ability was useful, but its power was fan-fucking-tastic for their purposes.  **

       Masters sighed as he began to run his binoculars over the perimeter again.  If they just wanted her, or maybe that kid with the eye beams, or even the red-headed teek, they could've grabbed one or all of them and been done with this shit ages ago.  But no, they wanted the only one who never seemed to leave the grounds - not that you could fucking blame it, the way it looked - and they couldn't risk alerting the Wolverine - he shivered at even the thought of the name - or the hi level teep who ran the place, by snatching any of the others.  They had orders to take as many as they could when the opportunity arose, but not unless the blue freak was one of them and that meant surveillance twenty-four bloody hours day, seven bloody days a week for as long as it bloody well took.

       Masters wished, not for the first time, that they'd set up here as soon as they found out about the place.  But at the time it had been blown all to hell and all the mutie freaks who'd lived here were running for their lives with the whole U.S. military on their asses.  No one had really thought they'd risk coming back here.  Sometimes twenty/twenty hindsight just plain pissed him off. 

            By the time they'd found out different it had been too late.  The house had still been a crater, but they hadn't wasted any time in reconstituting the defense system - and it was one hell of a defense system.  So now Eli Masters and a couple dozen of his close personal friends spent way too much time sitting on their asses, trying to be inconspicuous and hoping for a shot at the fuzzy blue freaking piece of shit who'd been, effectively, making many of their lives hell for over a year now.  Ever since the brass had found out about it from that little circus slut they'd picked up in South America.

       Personally, Masters couldn't wait 'til they got a restraint collar slapped around its neck and started teaching it some manners.  In fact, he sincerely hoped that he'd get a chance to help.  Until then, he entertained himself with fantasies of just how much fun it was going to be to break the little shit to harness and teach it who was boss.  He hoped it wouldn't be too easy.


	5. Cold Light of Dawn

COLD LIGHT OF DAWN

Kurt came awake with a start in the cold first light of dawn.  That, in itself, was nothing unusual, it was the feeling of being very cold, very damp and very, very sore that threw him for a loop.  He lay motionless for a moment, eyes still closed, trying to remember where exactly he was and why he was there rather than in his cot listening to Scott snore and mumble in his sleep.  He ran his fingers lightly through the damp fur on his bare chest, listening to the cheerful cacophony of birds rising to begin their day and breathing in the fresh scent of loamy earth and damp grass.  It didn't really bother him much to wake in the open, he'd just rather be able to remember why he went to sleep there in the first place – and also why he felt like someone had spent the night beating him with a stick.

He had finally opened one bleary golden eye to blink groggily up at the shifting canopy of new spring leaves above him when memory came flooding back to his sleep dazed mind and he surged gracefully to his feet, tail lashing with agitation.  After Scott left the bathroom last night he had teleported straight to the woods above the bunker complex.  The strain of 'porting up had left him dizzy, lightheaded and with a slight nosebleed to boot and his abused stomach had promptly made its displeasure known.  

He had paused, after, gasping for breath and trying to regain his equilibrium when he had again heard that cold, harsh voice echoing through his mind, sensed phantom hands reaching at the edge of his vision and he had been off, running.  Moving as fast as he could through the trees, never stopping, never slowing, his only thought to escape, escape the burning touch of memory and nightmare.  Branch to branch, leaping, grasping, swinging, teleporting any distance too great to leap.  Breath coming in labored gasps, the lash and tug of twigs and branches whipping and clutching at him as he sped, unheeding, through the canopy.  He ran until there was no room in his mind for anything but the next leap, the next handhold, until even the thought of 'porting was enough to make his head spin.  Then he threw himself from the treetops to the forest floor and ran some more.  Ran until each breath was an agony and his heart beat in his ears like a heavy metal drum solo, ran until there was nothing but oblivion.

Kurt wrapped his arms across his chest and shivered, not sure if it was the morning chill or the memory that suddenly left him so cold.  He neither recognized nor remembered the part of the woods he found himself in, it was simply the spot he was in when he had finally dropped from exhaustion.  It had been some time, he thought grimly, since it had taken quite so much effort to outpace his demons.

Lifting his arms high over head he stretched, feeling the protest from muscles and joints as he twisted and bent, trying to loosen up some of the kinks from hours spent in frantic activity followed by too little sleep on cold, damp earth.  He felt as though, in Logan's words, he'd been 'ridden hard and put up wet'.

_I suppose that's not really so far from the truth, he thought wryly as he shook dew from his hair._

_Oooh__, that__ was a mistake.  He groaned as his head began to pound in protest at the abrupt movement and his stomach clenched, threatening open revolt.  Rubbing at his mouth he felt the warm slickness of blood running from his nose and the stickiness of old blood in the fur of his face._

"Scheisse, I'm a wreck," he mumbled to himself in frustration.  He was filthy, cold and sore in places he'd forgotten could even get sore.  He needed a scalding hot shower and probably a good hour or more of yoga before he was going to feel even remotely human again – not that he had time for the latter, not before morning mass anyway.  If there'd been a time in the last few months when he had needed the comfort of Penance and Holy Communion, it was definitely this morning.

_Breakfast wouldn't hurt either, he thought as his stomach chose that moment to remind him, quite vocally, that teleporting burns a ridiculous number of calories and he'd eaten little, at least by his standards, the night before._

He scrubbed his hands through his hair, dislodging an odd array of small leaves and twigs.  Glancing down at the almost shredded remains of the flannel pants he'd worn to bed, as well as the assortment of fresh scrapes and cuts he'd collected on his night time obstacle course, he decided that, despite his exhaustion, one more teleport was probably in order.  No point in shocking anyone who might be up and moving by trooping through the hallways looking like a one mutant fright show first thing on a Sunday morning.  Hell, seeing him at his best first thing in the morning was enough to ruin breakfast for some of the new kids, even after all these months, seeing him this way would be really pushing it.

_No point in 'porting any farther than necessary, though, he reflected as his head and stomach both protested at the thought.  He turned unerringly in the direction of home and began to make his way slowly and silently through the underbrush._

He'd gone almost a mile before he finally reached the edge of the woods nearest the mostly rebuilt mansion.  Considering the distance, he was glad that he'd decided to walk this far rather than teleport straight to his destination.  "I _would rather be conscious when I get there," he mumbled quietly to himself._

He sat limply on a downed log at the edge of the woods, catching his breath and gathering strength for the 'port down to their underground living quarters.  _Gott_, it will be nice to be back above ground again.  I miss sunlight coming through the windows, _he thought as he gazed out at the almost finished mansion complex.  _

The sun had finally risen high enough to peer over the treetops to the east and the dew was beginning to dry, both on the landscape and his fur.  It was looking like the beginning of a beautiful day and it wasn't too difficult to wrench his mind away from dark thoughts of the night before.  

He had learned from experience that the past was just that, and there was no point in dwelling on it.  There would be another night to worry about soon enough as it was, and besides, he was constitutionally unsuited for brooding.  As for the fiasco with Kitty, he sighed as he scrubbed a battered hand through his tangled hair, he'd just have to give her time and space and see if, maybe, he couldn't salvage her friendship from the wreckage he'd made of it_.  _

_"Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," he thought with a melancholy smile.  It was one of his Mutti's favorite Bible verses and it had suited both his circumstances and his disposition so uncannily well on so many occasions, that he had sometimes felt that God had been speaking directly to him through His Apostle.  _No point worrying about tomorrow's problems, or yesterday's, just deal with today's as they come_.  Vati's more prosaic version was a simple 'don't borrow trouble Kurti.'  Either way, the sentiment suited both his personality and his mood.  It was much too beautiful a morning to brood and his innate optimism simply wouldn't let him worry about worst case scenarios in the rosy pink light of dawn._

"Ah, I knew there was a reason that this ungodly hour was my favorite time of day," he whispered to himself with a tired smile.  "Now to see what miracles can be worked by vast quantities of hot water and Herr McCoy's excellent fur shampoo," and with a brief flash of golden light and a muffled 'bamf', he disappeared.

Kitty woke to the jarring sound of Rogue's clock radio blaring Marilyn Manson at top volume.  The noise was enough to have her nearly jumping out of her skin – and she'd been having _such a good dream.  She groaned in frustration and pulled her pillow firmly over her head as she listened to Rogue cursing over the cacophony while she flailed around for the snooze button._

"Don't you _dare hit snooze and then go back to sleep," she told her room mate in an angry mumble, "'cause I'll phase right through the damn thing – and your stereo _and_ your discman – if it goes off again!_

"You wouldn't," Rogue drawled in a rather sleepy attempt at outrage.

"Yeah?  Try me," Kitty responded with conviction.

She knew that Rogue had taken her threat seriously – GOOD – when she heard the older girl rustle around in bed, followed shortly by the sound of bare feet hitting the floor and the quiet click followed by sudden silence as she actually turned the offending object off.

Kitty rolled gratefully over and, pulling her comforter up under her chin, tried to worm her way back into dreamland.  If she was lucky, she might even be able to drift back into the dream she'd been so rudely awakened from.  The details were already hazy in her memory, but she had no trouble remembering that it was definitely a dream worth revisiting.  Failing that, well, _there's no such thing as too much sleep_ she thought dreamily as her eyes drifted shut.

!!CLANG!!

"Ow, shit!  Goddamn metal furniture!"  Rogue exclaimed from the darkness.

"You know, Rogue, that chair's been there since we moved in three months ago.  It's never been moved.  One of these days you might, like, try something new and _not_ kick it in the dark."  Kitty peeked curiously over at the glowing numbers on the clock by her cot.  "Y'do know it's Sunday, right Rogue?" she inquired.

"Unhuh," came the mumbled affirmative from the darkness across the room.

"So why in Hell are you getting up at 7:00 in the morning?"  

"Ah let the furball talk me inta goin' ta Mass with 'im this mornin'," she answered in a sleepy, slightly exasperated tone.  "It's part o' his idea of 'brother-sister bonding'."  Kitty could hear her rummaging in the metal locker they shared as a 'closet' now and reached over to turn on the light.  It wasn't like she was going to be able to get back to sleep anyway, so Rogue might as well be able to see what she was doing.

"Oh, uh, when did he, like, ask you to go?" she asked, a little too quickly.  "Not that it's, like, any of my business."  She amended hastily, feeling more than a little uncomfortable.

_He wouldn't say anything to her, would he? she thought with a hint of panic.  No, not Kurt.  No matter what he might have thought of her behaviour he wouldn't talk about it with anyone else.  _Would he?_  No, definitely not, he was too much of a gentleman.  Now Roberto or Ray, they would've had it around the whole Institute before dinner, which is why no one in their right mind would_ ever_ confide anything to either of them._

She realized with a start that she had totally missed Rogue's reply while taking her little side trip down Neurosis Lane.

"I'm sorry Rogue, I missed that," she said with a yawn.

"Ah _said, Ah made the'mistake of askin' him about his religion when he was helpin' me with mah French homework on Wednesday.  Y'know that scary-ass crucifix he keeps hangin' across from the foot of his bed?"  Kitty nodded vaguely, trying to dredge an image to suit the description out of her memory.  "Well," Rogue continued, "Ah asked how'n Hell he can sleep with that thing starin' down at him all night and it kinda went from there.  So, now Ah'm stuck.  Ah promised him Ah'd go to early mass with him this mornin' – to 'experience the beauty of the Catholic faith' as he put it."_

After thinking about it, Kitty could now vaguely picture what Rogue must have been referring to.  She'd noticed it on his wall before, she just hadn't really paid it any mind.  Just like she _knew Kurt was a Catholic – it had come up at some time in the past, just like her Judaism had – but she'd had no idea that he actually attended church.  He never said anything about it.  Not like when Rahne had been at the Institute.  It had been hard to have a complete conversation with the girl in which religion didn't come up at least once – usually with reference to sin, guilt and/or damnation.  Kitty had actually taken to avoiding the younger girl because of it before she had been called home._

"I didn't know Kurt went to Church," she said, feeling irrationally hurt and kind of guilty that, after all this time, she hadn't known this very basic thing about him.

"Oh yeah," Rogue responded absently as she finished collecting supplies for her morning shower.  "Never misses a Sunday if he can help it.  Ah guess it was pretty hard for 'im an all, before the Prof gave 'im his inducer.  It's not like a fuzzy blue demon can really walk into your average Church.  Turns out that his uncle's a priest though, so he could do all that good Catholic confession and absolution nonsense a couple times a year when he came ta visit."  The older girl had an uncharacteristically…tender…expression on her face as she turned to look at Kitty, but quickly replaced it with her usual look of bored cynicism.

"Anyway, seems like he's still pretty psyched 'bout bein' able to go every week, even after all these months.  It was pretty hard to say no to the little fuzzball when he got so excited about showin' me 'his' Church."  She paused and glanced at the clock on her nightstand.  "Oh shit, Ah've gotta go," she exclaimed, "Ah don't want ta make him late.  Later roomie," and she was out the door and headed for the shower -  leaving Kitty wide awake at an ungodly hour on a Sunday morning wondering just how much she really did know about one of her 'best' friends.

Kurt staggered slightly as he reappeared in the locker room on the level below the living quarters, his head, stomach and the blood running freely from his nose all telling him that this had better be his last 'port for a good long time.  He pinched his nose tightly to stop the bleeding and stood still for a moment, waiting for the vertigo to subside, before grabbing a towel and heading for the showers.  

No one would be there at this hour on a Sunday morning so he should be able to have his shower and dress his injuries in peace, without having to explain himself to anyone.  Then he could slip into the uniform that was always kept in his locker and grab the spare image inducer he usually kept there as well and head up for breakfast with no one the wiser.  That was the plan, anyway.

He'd just stripped out of his shredded pyjamas and gotten the water running as hot as he could stand it when the sound of the door sliding open, then shut startled him from the daze he'd been slipping into.  Looking up, he caught sight of a burly figure moving around in the locker room near the door to the showers – unmistakably Logan.  He stepped quickly under the spray and, closing his eyes, let the scalding water run down his face to saturate his fur, ignoring the stinging of the dozens of scrapes and cuts he'd accumulated as the hot water flushed them out.  

He hoped the older mutant was simply retrieving something from his locker and would soon be gone without ever entering the shower room – a hope that was soon dashed as he heard another faucet turning and the spray begin from another shower head.  Of course he hadn't heard Logan actually enter the room. You never did unless he went out of his way to let you hear him – much like Kurt himself.  The difference was that Kurt was small, light, always barefoot and had, essentially, cat-feet.  How Logan managed to be so quiet with a metal plated skeleton and cowboy boots was a constant source of mystery to Kurt and the other students.

He seemed to be in luck this morning, as Logan didn't appear to feel socially inclined.  After a few moments of silence, broken only by the sound of running water and Logan washing himself, Kurt relaxed and let the hot water begin to work some of the blood from his fur and the stiffness from his muscles.

He had just gotten to work on the seemingly gargantuan task of working all the twigs, leaves and loam out of his hair when Logan's gruff voice broke what was just beginning to feel like a companionable silence.  "So Elf, rough night?"  There was a hint of humor in the question, but there was definitely an edge there as well.

He took a moment to finish picking out the bit of twig he'd been working on then answered in as noncommittal a voice as he could muster, "Ja, I've had better."  He didn't meet the other man's eyes as he spoke, but concentrated on moving on to the next personal grooming challenge of the morning.  _Thank God the hot water supply down here is virtually unlimited, he thought with chagrin,__ it's going to take forever to get me clean this morning._

A few more moments of silence and he was beginning to relax again when, "Nightmares, eh?" Logan asked in a voice so neutral as to be almost toneless.

Kurt froze, stunned for a moment, then managed to reply, "Ja, nightmares," in a not quite strangled voice.  The older man's question had caught him totally by surprise, although he wasn't quite sure why.  If anyone could guess it would be Logan.  He and the Professor were the only ones who knew about the nightmares that had haunted him for months after his arrival at the Institute.  Months when he had been irrationally grateful for the self-imposed ethical niceties that kept both the Professor and Jean out of his head without a specific invitation – an invitation he was not bloody likely to ever extend.  It had been Logan who had programmed the series of drills in the Danger Room specifically for him to use when he wanted – needed – to run himself to exhaustion before he could risk sleeping.  Ororo and Jean, and even Scott, had known he was having 'difficulty adjusting' to his new life, as the Professor had so diplomatically put it, but it was Logan who had been there in the night when he had woken up in the med lab nothing but an incoherent ball of instinct and terror.

"Want ta talk about it?" the Canadian asked in the same carefully neutral voice.

Kurt actually found himself tempted for a moment.  Logan did, after all, know some of his secrets anyway, it had seemed very natural to open up to the gruff, taciturn man in the dark watches of the night when he could neither sleep nor be trusted alone.  Logan had never insulted him with pity, nor had he taken it on himself to judge, he had simply listened and understood.  Most importantly, he had never spoken of any of it again to Kurt or, he was absolutely certain, to anyone else - including the Professor - nor had he let it affect their relationship in any way.  The urge to speak passed almost as soon as it surfaced, however, as soon as he remembered the difference between those previous confidences and the one he was actually contemplating now.  Some things might, after all, go beyond even Logan's understanding and acceptance.

"Nein, Herr Logan," he finally answered, aware that the silence was stretching from companionable to uncomfortable as the older man waited for his response.  "It is nothing new, it'll go away.  They always do."  He dove back under the shower head to forestall any further attempts at conversation and concentrated single-mindedly on washing away all physical reminders of how he'd spent his night.  When he finally opened his eyes and emerged from beneath the spray he was relieved to see that Logan had taken the hint and left.  

Aware that time was passing more rapidly than he might wish, and that his stomach was becoming increasingly aware of the fact as well, he finally rinsed the last of the shampoo from his body and shut off the hot water.  Before grabbing his towel he gave himself a cursory examination and was satisfied to see that everything seemed to have stopped bleeding, and nothing felt too seriously damaged.  He actually felt a bit of spring return to his step as he grabbed his towel and headed back to the locker room, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw Logan, already dressed and sitting casually on the bench in front of his locker, obviously waiting for him, with an open first aid kit on his lap.

"I know ya don't want ta talk about it Elf, I can work with that.  But you sure as hell can't reach everything that's gonna need patchin' up, so I thought I'd stick around and give ya a hand."  It was simply a statement, not patronizing or pitying, and not digging for more information.  It was, like the man who made it, very straightforward.  An offer of help – no more, no less.  

Kurt nodded once as he resumed toweling himself off, moving over to sit next to the older man.  "Ja," he said, with a little more animation than he'd managed earlier.  "Ja, that would be helpful.  I can _reach_ my back, but I can't see what I'm doing."

He sat silently while Logan examined, disinfected and patched up the multitude of cuts and abrasions marking his back and shoulders, not objecting when the Canadian simply continued on and took care of all his other injuries as well.  Neither of them spoke and Kurt only moved when prompted so that Logan could get all his cuts and abrasions.  Despite the pain of having the myriad small wounds dressed, it was oddly comforting to just sit and let the older man take care of everything.  For such a gruff and seemingly surly individual, Logan was remarkably gentle when it came to patching up any of his 'kids', a fact that Kurt had had cause to be grateful for more than once in the past.  By the time he was finished Kurt had relaxed considerably.

"That's it Elf," he said as he applied a gauze pad to the last gash on Kurt's left temple.  "Ya look like shit warmed over, but nothin's serious.  You may not heal as fast as me, but you're fast enough, so it'll be mostly gone in a couple a' days."  The older man began to methodically replace the supplies in the room's first aid kit while Kurt fished his uniform and spare holowatch out of his locker and began to dress.  

Logan glanced up from beneath dark brows and eyed the younger man consideringly.  "Ya might want ta think about wearin' that thing around home for a bit," he said, gesturing at the clunky watch Kurt had laid out on the bench next to him as he attempted to shrug into his uniform without getting his fur too uncomfortably rucked up.  "Else you'll have 'Ro an' half the kids around here houndin' ya ta find out what ya've done ta yerself."  He finished what he was doing as he spoke and rose to replace the first aid kit in its niche by the door.  

Kurt responded with a smile that felt almost natural for the first time since yesterday afternoon and nodded his agreement.  "Ja," he said with a short laugh, "I don't want Ms. Munroe sending me off to Dr. McCoy for any more stitches if I can help it.  It's certainly better than Mutti or Margali used to do with their sewing needles, but I'm still not really partial to the whole experience."

Logan headed for the door but paused just short of the threshold, "oh and Elf," he said, looking back over his shoulder to where Kurt was now strapping on his holowatch, "I'll have a couple programs set up in the Danger Room for you by tonight in case you need them, passcodes'll be in your locker," and without waiting for a reply he was through the door and gone.

_Danke__, mein Freund, the blue youth responded silently as the doors slid shut._

Kurt scrubbed his hands through indigo hair that was almost dry now and realized that he was still smiling.  Logan's non-judgmental companionship, combined with the sheer physical relief of being clean and relatively patched up, had managed to resurrect some of the optimism he'd felt at the edge of the woods this morning.  What he'd told Logan earlier _was_ true after all, the nightmares were nothing new and they _would_ go away again.  As for Kitty, well, he'd burn that bridge when he came to it.  

For now, he was going to go upstairs and scrounge up a very substantial breakfast and then haul his 'sister' off to Mass.  If they hurried he should still have time for confession before the Latin Mass began at 8:45 – he had originally planned on skipping the Sacrament of Penance this week, in the interest of spending the time with Rogue, but he felt an acute need for its comfort this morning.  He didn't think she would mind waiting by herself for the short time it would take.

He wasn't going to be bouncing off any walls today, but there was definitely a bounce in his step as he activated his holowatch and stepped out the door on his way to breakfast a few minutes later.

Logan managed to maintain his careful façade of neutrality until a few moments after the fortunately soundproofed door slid shut with a sigh, then he let loose with a string of invective that might have made a longshoreman blush.  The damn kid had looked, sounded and smelled almost as torn up as he had when they'd first dragged his sorry ass back here from Germany in the fall.  He'd spent way too many nights back then keeping the little squirrel from doing himself or anybody else serious damage before he came back from wherever the nightmares had taken him.  He didn't really want to go that route again, and he was pretty damned sure Kurt didn't want to either.  He'd heard the background stories that went along with a few of the nightmares and he understood exactly why the kid had been such a panicked mess so much of the time back then.  When you thought about it, it was really more of a surprise how well he coped most of the time.  He wondered what had happened to dredge those memories back up again, the Elf didn't really need that kind of kick in the ass.

_Suppose it could just be all the anti-mutant hysteria gettin' to him.  Seein' your picture in the paper next to the headline "Mutant Monster Still on the Loose" every few weeks probably does get old after a while, Logan reflected as he headed for the elevator at the end of the hall.  __Still, if that was gonna bug him I'd've expected it to show up a while back and to have built up gradually.  Wouldn't have expected him to go to hell in a handbasket with no advance warning like he did yesterday._

As he punched the button and waited for the elevator doors to open, Logan's mind drifted back to his observations at dinner the night before.  He was pretty sure that whatever had gone on between Half Pint and the Elf yesterday had something to do with how fucked up the kid was now, he just couldn't figure out why or how.  Sure, he never would've pegged the two of  'em for gettin' it on in the underbrush, but stranger things had happened.  From the scent of 'em it had gone pretty far, but not too far – they hadn't smell like _that_.  And besides, what in hell could possibly be so damn traumatic about some heavy petting.  _Unless…_and Logan's mind took a side trip he really didn't want to be on.  _No, not the Elf._  He wouldn't…and she didn't smell…No.  **So** not gonna go there.  Couldn't happen, didn't happen.  But hell, _he thought with frustration, __what did happen?_

The elevator doors finally slid open and he stepped quickly in, pushing the button for the main level as he did so.  He briefly considered trying to milk Kitty for some information on what, exactly, had happened yesterday, but abandoned the thought almost immediately.  She didn't really seem any the worse for wear and Kurt obviously didn't want to talk about it, so in his book that effectively made it none of his damn business.  He'd just have to keep an eye (and an ear and nose) on the two of them for a while and see if anything turned up.  In the meantime, he'd just hope that Kurt could work out whatever was bugging him on his own or, barring that, that he'd have the sense to come to someone for help before it got out of hand.  

Good thing his own demons had sent him down to the Danger Room this morning to burn off a little steam.  He didn't want to get blindsided if the runt lost it.

The elevator doors slid open yet again, this time on the silent metal corridor leading past the dormitories and down to the kitchen and 'dining hall.'  Time to rustle up some breakfast and a cup of coffee and then get outside before the rest of the kids dragged their lazy asses out of bed and started turning the place into a zoo.  His 'game' in the Danger Room had definitely given him an appetite and his acute senses really didn't feel like dealing with the noise and smells associated with that many teenagers this morning.  With a purposeful stride, he headed silently down the corridor and disappeared into the kitchen.


	6. An Ordinary Day

AN ORDINARY DAY?

Kurt sat at the small desk in the room he shared with Scott, tail swaying restlessly through the gap in the ladderback chair and tongue protruding between his lips in concentration as he conjugated Latin verbs on the worksheet before him.  Pausing, he absently took a bite of potatoes from the plate next to him before flipping to the next page and beginning to translate.  It was a short passage from Caesar's Commentaries on the Gallic Wars and it was only a matter of ten minutes or so before he let his pencil drop, homework complete.

He took a moment to collect his work and place it in the appropriate binders before shoving everything into his overstuffed backpack.  That done, he rose from his chair and stretched cramped muscles before hopping into a relaxed crouch on the edge of his desk to finish his dinner in comfort.

It had been, in some respects, a comfortingly ordinary day, he reflected as he worked his way through the rapidly cooling remains of his dinner.  The only other person he had encountered before setting out for Our Lady of Sorrows had been Rogue as she staggered into the kitchen just in time to grab a cup of coffee and a bagel before they left.  The short drive to the small Church just outside of Bayville had been spent in companionable silence, while his 'sister' worked on increasing her blood caffeine to safe levels – safe, that is, for anyone forced to deal with her before lunch.

He had spent the drive reflecting on the content of his impending confession and by the time they arrived at the tiny Church he had felt suitably prepared.  There had been only four or five other cars in the lot – the early morning Latin Mass was not the most popular service of the day - and he had taken care to park Scott's beloved roadster at the far end, away from any threat of harm.  Especially since his room mate wasn't aware that he had 'borrowed' his ride.

He had been suitably gratified by Rogue's response to 'his' church.  He'd come to love the tiny stone building with its comforting combination of brilliant stained glass, rough stone and warm, dark wood all permeated with the lingering aroma of candles and incense.  Just walking through the time worn and sunbleached doors into the narthex brought him a sense of peace and connectedness.  He felt tensions he had not even been aware of drain from him as he was enveloped in the timeless tranquility of the place.

There had been only a handful of elderly parishioners scattered through the first few pews when they entered – some kneeling in prayer, rosaries in hand, others sitting in quiet contemplation as they awaited the start of the service.  Kurt had quietly explained the significance of the Holy Water in the font by the door as he had led Rogue into the small sanctuary, and pointed out the stained glass panels marching down either side of the narrow nave, bathing the tiny church in muted rainbow colors.  Her relief  when he assured her she was expected neither to genuflect nor cross herself had been evident, but she had oohed and aaahed appreciatively in all the right places as he had continued her abbreviated tour, finally choosing to examine the beautiful marble statue of the Blessed Virgin while she waited for him to make his confession.

That done he had rejoined her, feeling lighter by far, and taken his regular seat in one of the rear pews and let the familiar cadence of the Mass wash over him.  By the time the service was over he felt like he might actually be ready to face the rest of the day, although he wasn't quite ready to raise his sights to the rest of the week.  

In contrast to the companionable silence of the earlier drive, they had spent the return trip in easy banter punctuated by Rogue's shrieks and threats of retribution as he teased her by using the winding road to test the performance capabilities of Scott's little roadster.  It had been good to hear her laugh, better to be the one responsible for her laughter.

The rest of the day had passed in a typical whirlwind of activity.  He had helped Scott and Logan install toilets in seven bathrooms, they hadn't even taken a lunch break.  They had simply eaten sandwiches which one of the Jamies had delivered to them while they worked.  _Mein__ Gott, I could almost wish to never see a toilet again if that weren't so impractical!_

The schedule was grueling, but none of them (well, except maybe Amara) minded too much - in fact, most of their work was entirely voluntary, not mandated by the adults.  The more they got done, the sooner they could move out of the 'catacombs' or the 'vault' as they'd taken to calling their current quarters.  The way things were going, it actually looked like they might get to start moving in by the end of the week.  Of course, there'd still be a lot more finish work to go even then, and none of them would have any furniture yet, but that was a small price to pay in exchange for privacy, windows and, most importantly, escaping the metallic echoes of the bunker. 

 Kurt was actually more than a little tempted to start sleeping in his 'room' as is, but the Professor insisted they at least wait until all the electrical and plumbing work was complete and the flooring installed.  That should be by Friday at the latest, and Friday night they'd all be happily camping out with blankets on the floor.

Between the day's work and begging off dinner in order to finish his homework Kurt had had no difficulty with his resolution to avoid Kitty.  It meant missing out for the second night running on movies and popcorn in the common room, but considering how he'd ended up spending last night that was probably a good thing.  His time would be much more productively spent in the Danger Room running through some of those sims Logan had promised to program in for him. He was still sore in every muscle from the night's exertions, his cuts and bruises ached and burned, and he was running desperately short on sleep, but he knew it wasn't enough. 

_No, not enough, he thought as he dropped lightly down from the edge of his desk.  There was absolutely no way he was going to go to bed tonight until he was so exhausted that just getting there would be a challenge.  He might deserve to be punished for what he'd done with…to…Kitty yesterday, but there were some little corners of Hell he simply wasn't willing to visit, whether he deserved to or not.  _

He briefly considered again whether he should offer her some more formal sort of apology and concluded, **again**, that doing anything to remind her of the incident was probably an extremely bad idea.  The few times their paths had crossed today she had blushed and looked quickly away.  It just confirmed the wisdom of his decision.  He'd already told her how sorry he was before he sent her away, anything further was rubbing salt in the wound.  He'd just have to try harder to stay out of her way for a while.  

It didn't really help matters that every time he had seen her he had flashed back to some very inappropriate memories.  Once today he'd found himself standing at an upstairs window watching as she bent to pick up a flat of plants and had felt his breath grow short and his pants grow uncomfortably and embarrassingly tight.  Thank God that he had been both alone and in baggy pants at the time.

"Oh God, you fucking pervert," he groaned, leaning back on the edge of his desk and screwing his eyes shut in frustration.  But it didn't stop him from shivering at the remembered sensation of her hands on him, stroking through his fur and her body pressed against his…straining…

"Aagh!  Nein, nein, NEIN!"  He pounded the desk 'til his hand ached, trying to settle his ragged breathing, thoroughly disgusted with himself.  "That is so wrong in so many ways that my head should be spinning.  Scheiss!"  He should be thinking of Amanda this way, not a girl he treated as a little sister.  It seemed that he had more than nightmares to work out tonight in the Danger Room.

With a sigh he reached high over head to stretch out some of the kinks - he'd really have to make time for some yoga tomorrow - and then, grabbing the wreckage of his dinner and pocketing his rosary, he activated his image inducer and headed rapidly out the door and down the hall.  He could drop his dishes in the kitchen on his way to the elevator and the Danger Room.

Kitty sat quietly in the corner of the couch, knees hugged tightly to her chest and only a small part of her attention on the television screen before her.  She hadn't even bothered to get involved in the argument over what to watch.  She didn't really care.  She was only here because she'd finished her homework, it was too early for bed and she didn't want to be alone with her misery.

She had half hoped and half feared that she would find Kurt already settled in his usual spot in the corner of the sofa.  If she could just talk to him, apologize, maybe things would be okay between them again.  She hadn't really expected to find him though.  Every time she'd seen him today he had carefully avoided her, refusing even to make eye contact.  They'd both been busy in different parts of the mansion all day, but their paths had crossed often enough that his refusal to acknowledge her had become obvious - to her if not to anyone else.  

To make matters worse, she knew she'd blushed every time she'd seen him.  After the kind of dreams she'd had last night she just couldn't help it.  She only hoped that everyone else had been too busy to notice.  What everyone **had noticed was how distracted and clumsy she was all day.  She was forever dropping things or forgetting what she was supposed to be doing.  That wouldn't have been half so bad if it weren't for the fact that she had been helping Forge and Dr. McCoy with the new Danger Room programming.  She'd been so useless that they had finally, albeit kindly, sent her out to help the New Mutants with landscaping.  At least if she dropped a plant or a rock it wouldn't ruin hours of delicate work.**

Just before she'd left Dr. McCoy had even asked, in his uniquely wordy way, if she wanted to talk about whatever had her so distracted.  Her only response had been to blush crimson and dash from the room.  How could she possibly tell him that what was distracting her was the thought of getting naked and sweaty with the Institute's other resident blue furball?  

Her eyes began to drift closed as she remembered the amazing sensation of his velvety fur rubbing against her skin, his rough, calloused hands so gentle as they drifted across her body.  She slid further down into the corner of the couch, stretching her legs out as she began to relax.

"Hey Kitty!  Watch what you're doin' wouldya?"  Sam's voice broke into her thoughts as he pushed her legs out of his lap.

"Yeah, jeez Kitty, you just knocked the popcorn all over my lap."  Bobby added as he began busily sweeping it off of his lap and back into the bowl Sam had handed to him.

"Oh, gross!"  Jamie complained.  "Don't put it back in the bowl, I was gonna eat more of that."

"I'm, like, so sorry guys," Kitty offered, blushing furiously yet again, "I just, like, fell asleep and well, you know…" her voice trailed away and she reached across to help Bobby brush the last remnants of popcorn off the couch next to him.

"Oh for Christ's sake!"  Ray exclaimed from his spot in the chair by the door.  "Will you guys just shut the hell up and watch the show?  No one else can hear with you guys chattering away over there."

"Hey, Crisp, watch your language!" Scott barked, leaning forward with a meaningful look at Jamie where he sat on the floor.

"Give them a break Ray.  It's not like it's all that great anyway," Jean stated with a withering look at the screen where a half-dressed, scrawny (yet amazingly chesty) young woman was gyrating as she sang slightly off-key for a panel of judges.  No surprise that the boys had voted almost unanimously for this show, while most of the girls were somewhat less than thrilled.  Unfortunately, the way the numbers worked out, the boys usually won on any issue where opinion was divided along gender lines.

"And Kitty," Jean added with a kind look for the younger girl, "if you're that tired, why don't you go to bed?  It's not like you haven't been just about dead on your feet all day."

Kitty started to protest and then thought better of it.  She was tired enough that she certainly wouldn't have any trouble getting to sleep.  She'd just proven that by dozing off in the crowded, noisy common room.  And if she was going to have any more of those dreams, she certainly didn't want to have them in a public place.

Face burning, she got up and started to pick her way through the other teenagers littering the floor like puppies.

"Oh, and Roomie," Rogue sing songed at her quietly as she passed her, "don't **make me have ta wake you up again tonight.  'Cause Ah'll break out that bucket o' water if I have to, or maybe," she looked speculatively at Kitty's flaming cheeks, "maybe Ah'll just listen a little longer tonight!" and she favored Kitty with a wicked smile.**

"Dibs on her spot!" yelled Jamie, scrambling up from his place on the floor.

"No way squirt," Evan answered as he jumped over the back of the couch and directly into Kitty's vacated place, accidentally kicking Sam in the head in the process,.  "Too little and too slow, you are a certified floor sitter for the foreseeable future!"

"Aww man!"  Jamie complained as he stretched back out on the floor.  "I am so sick of always being the youngest around this place.  We **seriously need some more students - little ones, like ten year olds or something that I can boss around."**

"That is **so the last thing we need," Bobby broke in, ruffling the younger boy's hair.  "More midgets running around Squirt?  There's enough of you as it is!"**

"Will you guys shut the fuck **up**!"  Ray finally almost shouted, achieving a few brief moments of peace and quiet while yet another scrawny but chesty girl took her turn to gyrate and sing.  However, before Kitty had gotten out of earshot down the hall the noise had started up again.  

_No wonder Mr. Logan insists on having a room as far away from everyone and everything as he can get, Kitty thought with a half smile, _If___ I had his hearing I'd, like, want to be on the next floor down too.  The ambient noise level with this many teenagers around must sound almost as bad as camping next to a freeway during rush hour._

By the time she reached her room she no longer felt like you could use her face to light the place, but she was still feeling uncomfortably warm and, well…interested.  She hoped desperately that Rogue had been joking, because she was fairly certain that, given the way her day had gone and the incident in the common room, she knew **exactly** what her dreams were going to be like again tonight.  The worst part was, she was really looking forward to getting to sleep.

Logan looked up from the book he was reading as he heard quiet, almost silent, footsteps going past his door.  The elf was heading to run a Danger Room sim before bed.  He briefly toyed with the idea of following him to watch, make sure the little squirrel didn't overdo it and hurt himself, but decided to settle for checking in on him if he hadn't come out in an hour.  

There'd been more than one occasion in the Elf's first weeks that Logan had entered the Danger Room for an early morning run-through only to find the kid collapsed in a bleeding heap in a corner because he'd been too hurt or too exhausted to make it back to his room.  After the second time, he'd programmed the systems to automatically power down and sound an alert in his room based on the Elf's vitals.  He couldn't do anything that sophisticated here, but then he hadn't given the kid access to any of the truly dangerous sims at this location and besides, it simply didn't pack as much punch as the larger facility at the mansion.  He should be okay for now.

Logan sat listening long enough to hear the locker room doors open and close twice as Kurt suited up and then headed out again.  Then there was the sound of another set of doors, followed shortly by the distinctive sound of the Danger Room powering up.  After listening a moment longer Logan reached for the beer on his bedside table and took a long drink before wiping his lips on his flannel shirtsleeve but he still didn't go back to his book.  Instead he thought back on a conversation he'd overheard between Scott and Kurt earlier in the afternoon, while they were working on the plumbing in the downstairs men's room.

_"You okay, Kurt?" the older boy had asked, concern in his voice._

_"Ja Scott, I'm fine," but the elf had glanced between __Logan__ and Shades as though uncomfortable with the older man overhearing._

_"It's just, you were awful sick last night man.  Did you see Dr. McCoy this morning?"  Scott glanced at __Logan_ as well and he wondered if the older boy was really as thick as he seemed sometimes.__

_"Nein Scott, I told you, I'm fan man.  Just let it drop, will you?"  Kurt pulled his head out from under the sink he'd been working on to glare at Scott._

_"Yeah, whatever Kurt, if you say so.  But jeez, when I woke you up last night man, you shoulda **seen the look on your face.  For a second there I thought you were gonna try and take my head off."**_

_"Whatever Scott!__  Could we just get back to work here?  I don't really want to spend the entire day with my head under this verdammt sink!"  _Logan___ had seen a pair of golden eyes fixed nervously on him from the darkness beneath the sink._

_The older boy had finally let the matter drop, but not before the elf had pumped enough stress hormones into the air to just about give _Logan___ the jitters._

He took another drink and hoped that he wasn't going to be scraping the elf up off the Danger Room floor in an hour, but he would if he had to.  Maybe the kid'd be ready for a beer by the time he dragged his ass out of there for the night.  Logan knew alcohol didn't solve any problems, but sometimes it just didn't hurt to get that last little push over the edge when you were running for all you were worth and the demons were catching up with you anyway.  Logan didn't know a hell of a lot about kids, but he sure as hell knew about trying to outrun ghosts.


	7. Life Goes On

LIFE GOES ON

            The sun was just dipping below the treetops to the west of the mansion, painting the evening sky in pastel shades of pink and gold.  Thin tendrils of cloud scudded rapidly overhead, carried by a cool ocean breeze and looking for all the world like elongated pink tufts of cotton candy skimming across the sky.

            Kurt crouched in silence in the gathering dusk, golden eyes luminous in the descending twilight.  He shifted slightly, elbows resting lightly on his thighs, hands dangling, relaxed, between his knees as he lovingly fingered the smooth wooden beads of a worn rosary.  His lips moved slightly, almost soundlessly as he prayed the decades of the rosary, each worn bead a comfort to his hands as his mind called up the accompanying prayer.

_Gegrusset__ seist Du, Maria.  Du bist  voll der Gnade; der Herr is mit dir.  Du bist gebenedeit unter den Frauen, und gebenedeit ist die Frucht deines Leibes, Jesus.  Heilige Maria, Mutter Gottes, bitte fur uns Sunder, jetzt und in der Stunde unseres Todes. Amen._

            He paused and took a deep breath, watching as the last color faded from the evening sky, leaving him in darkness both real and metaphorical.  He could no longer maintain the illusion of peace, even to himself.  He groaned in frustration as he clutched his rosary in a suddenly tense fist.  His tail lashed angrily behind him as he briefly clenched his eyes shut against mingled frustration and exhaustion, only to have them snap abruptly open only a second later as nightmare threatened to come clawing at him from the darkness behind his eyes.  

            Usually the simple ritual of praying the rosary could bring him the peace he sought, but not tonight.  He'd tried in English, German and even Latin and the familiar litany seemed only to brush at the ragged fringes of his tension, aggravating rather than alleviating his frustration until even the fragile illusion of serenity was lost.

            He jumped down from the low wall where he had perched with a muffled curse and stuffed his rosary unceremoniously back into the pocket of his baggy trousers.  So much for the cautious optimism of Sunday, this week had definitely gone to Hell in the proverbial hand basket.

            His fists clenched and unclenched rhythmically at his sides as he stalked, tail lashing, in the direction of the forest.  He was teetering on the thin edge of self-control and didn't want to risk running into anyone until, or unless, he could manage to recover himself.  He wasn't quite at the point of being a menace, but he certainly wasn't capable of concealing his distress and there was no way in hell he wanted to run into a well-intentioned friend who would pressure him to air his dirty laundry.  Sixteen years of being a 'freak' had taught him one lesson very well - no useful purpose was ever served by 'sharing' the pain.  It didn't solve his problems and it worried those around him.  Much better to hide behind a false smile and a smoke screen of humor.  The only problem was, at the moment he could manage neither.

            Kitty lay in a disconsolate heap across her small cot, staring blankly at the featureless metal ceiling above her.  She knew that tomorrow, after school, they would finally be moving back into the mansion after three months in the 'vault', but she just couldn't muster the energy to care.  From the hallway outside her door she could hear the eager chatter of her friends and team-mates as they packed essentials so they could move in as soon as they got home tomorrow.  No one wanted to spend a second longer in this metal tomb than necessary, her included, but she couldn't bring herself to share in their enthusiasm either.

            She sighed deeply and tried to convince herself to at least get up and pack a bag so she'd have her clothes ready to move over.  It wasn't like it would take more than one bag anyway.  But instead of getting up and starting to work she felt a single tear slide slowly down her cheek.  

            This had been one of the worst weeks of her life, and she was getting so tired of pretending otherwise.  She missed Kurt.  Missed his lighthearted banter, his stupid jokes, his teasing and tongue in cheek gallantry.  She missed her best friend and it was her own stupidity that had driven him away.  She felt a second tear slide down to join the first and knew that the flood gates were about to blow wide open when a voice at the door jolted her out of her self pity.

            "Okay Roomie, spill!"

            Kitty looked up in surprise, hurriedly brushing at the evidence of her tears.  Rogue stood in the doorway to their room, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently, an exasperated look on her face.

            "What?" Kitty asked in confusion, trying with only partial success to slap a veneer of composure over her roiling sorrow.

            "Ah said, _spill_ Kitty Pryde and Ah meant it.  What the heck are you all bent outa shape over?  Ah'm sick'a your hangdog look and all the mopin' and sighin' goin' on around here."

            "I don't know **what** you're talking about," Kitty replied.  "And I am **not** moping," she said indignantly.  "**And** what do you mean **'hangdog look'!" she added as an afterthought, levering herself up to a sitting position as she spoke.  It was more than a little difficult to maintain an air of affronted dignity from a supine position.**

            "Oh come off it Kitty!  You know exactly what Ah'm talkin' about.  Ah ain't stupid ya know, and neither is anyone else around here!"  Rogue had moved into the room and closed the door behind her as she spoke.  A fact for which Kitty was becoming increasingly grateful as the older girl continued her tirade.  "If Ah've put two and two tagether an' come up with four, then it won't be too long b'fore someone else manages to.  The only reason you've avoided the gossip mill for this long is that everyone's so worked up about finally movin' _home_ that they haven't been payin' as much attention as usual.  Ya might as well just fess up and get it over with, 'cause Ah ain't gonna leave off until ya do."  As she finished speaking she dropped onto the bed next to the younger girl and fixed her with a stern glare.

            Kitty's eyes had gone progressively wider throughout this monologue and now she stared, speechless, at her room mate as she tried to think of a response.

            "What on _earth_ are you talking about?" she finally managed, not sounding half so indifferent as she could have wished.  _Oh great, Pryde, just great.  Could you have been just a **bit more inarticulate maybe?**_ she thought in frustration.

            Rogue gave her another glare and let her breath out with an exasperated, "hmph!"

            "Kitty, Ah don't know exactly what's goin' on, but it don't take a rocket scientist to see that you 'n' Kurt've had some kind of fallin' out.  You guys've been thicker'n thieves for ages and now every time one of ya comes into a room, the other takes off like someone lit a fire under their ass-end."  Rogue paused and looked at Kitty, the exasperation replaced by concern as she placed one gloved hand on the younger girl's arm.  Kitty knew she looked like a deer in headlights, but she couldn't help it.

            "Yer both starin' at each other every chance ya get, but never makin' eye contact and you, at least, are blushin' fit to light a room every time you catch sight of the fuzzball.  He might be too for all I know - between the fur and the inducer ya can't ever really tell with him," Rogue continued, refusing to let the pressure up as her words bored into Kitty like a jack-hammer.  "Ya both look like shit, and Ah ain't seen Kurt without his inducer on all week - a sure sign that he's tryin' ta hide _somethin__' from us."  She looked away briefly, shaking her head at some thought or memory._

            "Come on Roomie," she said again, much more gently than the first time, "spill it.  Tell me what's goin' on before Ah have to beat it outa ya with a stick," and she smiled reassuringly at Kitty, the expression incongruous on her usually cynical and detached features.

            And suddenly Kitty couldn't take it any longer.  The floodgates burst open and all her pain, uncertainty and sorrow came flooding out in a confused jumble as she threw herself into the older girl's arms and sobbed out her heartache on a sympathetic shoulder.  Rogue was more than a little taken aback by the sudden outburst, but sat stoicly, arms wrapped awkwardly around the younger teen as she patted her back and tried to make soothing noises into Kitty's tangled brown hair.

            As Rogue sat stiffly, with a limp, sobbing bundle of Kitty held awkwardly in her arms, she could't help thinking with chagrin that this was gonna play hell with her hard-ass image if any of the other kids found out about it.

            Kurt moved silently through the looming darkness of the forest, eyes glowing an eerie gold in the quickly fading light.  His passage was marked only by the occasional thump and rustle as he kicked at the shrubbery or snapped small branches in frustration.  He finally came to a stop in a small clearing well away from the more frequented portions of the woods, not that it would matter this late in the day, and settled onto his back in the soft green of new spring grass.  Folding his arms behind his head, he stared up through the roughly circular break in the forest canopy at the same wisps of cloud he'd seen earlier, this time ghostly silver in the light of an almost full moon.  

            It was a perfect evening and a glorious view, but it wasn't coming any closer to curing his agitation than his earlier prayers had.  He shifted restlessly as his tail whipped through the grass beside him, beheading helpless, unsuspecting wildflowers with every pass.

            He let the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding out in an explosive sigh, closed his eyes and surrendered to the morbid impulse to mentally review the wreckage of the last four days.

            To be fair, it didn't start out all that badly.  _Ach, who am I kidding, of **course** it started out bad,_ he thought with exasperation.  Sunday night had been an unremediable nightmare, both literally and figuratively.  Admittedly he had managed to get out of the house without once running into Kitty Monday morning, but it had necessitated a stop at Gut Bomb to make up for the breakfast he'd had to abandon when he heard her coming into the dining hall.

            Things had gone rapidly downhill from there.  Amanda had been waiting for him by the main entrance when he arrived fifteen minutes early for class.  Just a few short weeks ago he would have welcomed the chance to spend a little extra time with her, but more and more in the last few weeks he had found himself wondering just what, exactly, they were basing this relationship on.  They seemed to have exhausted most topics of mutual conversational interest and now spent most of their time together either making out or with her harassing him in one way or another about hiding behind his image inducer.

            While the first activity was undeniably quite pleasant, the second had gotten old quite some time ago.  It didn't seem to matter how many times he changed the subject or diverted her suggestions or questions, she just couldn't leave the topic alone.  Her insistence that people would love the 'real' him if he just gave them a chance simply didn't hold up in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.  Hell, he'd lived with the new kids for months, they were **mutants** for Christ's sake, and he still freaked most of _them out to one degree or another.  But he couldn't bring himself to tell Amanda that every time someone rented a monster movie Jamie would avoid him for days.  That Amara never got any closer to him than she had to.  That even Bobby, Ray and Roberto still jumped if they came on him unexpectedly.  To be honest, he wasn't sure if _any_ of the new kids had ever so much as touched him if it wasn't absolutely necessary.  He didn't really like to think about any of this to begin with, he certainly wasn't going to tell Amanda.  But if other mutants had that much trouble with him, how could he expect 'normals' to react any better._

            It was getting harder and harder for him to deal politely with her tenacity on the issue.  He had actually taken to avoiding being alone with her whenever possible lately.  When they were with his friends she wouldn't bring up the subject - she'd been slapped down, none too politely, enough times by one or the other of them that she finally took the hint and left it alone in their presence.  And she couldn't very well bring it up in front of her friends - much as she hounded him about 'coming out of the closet', even she wouldn't go so far as to reveal his secret without his permission.  Well, at least he didn't _think_ she would.  She had turned his holo off in public on a couple of occasions, but no one had actually been around at the time.  No harm, no foul?

            Of course, not that many of her friends hung around with her anymore now that they knew she was dating a 'mutie freak.'  Kurt had actually felt bad about that at first - being responsible for her losing her friends - although it had felt good to have her stand by him.  Now, he wasn't so sure.  She actually seemed to be enjoying the attention, and even went out of her way sometimes to make sure that people knew that her boyfriend was one of the 'Institute kids.'

            He hadn't really taken much note of how things were going though, until after the fiasco Toad had caused when he went to meet her parents.  She had actually seemed _glad that they had seen him without his hologram and even that they had forbidden her to see him.  He was getting the distinct impression that she was enjoying the opportunity to prove what a tolerant and liberal-minded person she was by continuing to see him against their wishes.  In fact, being a 'martyr to her ideals' was fast becoming one of her favorite topics of conversation on the occasions when she left off on his need to stop hiding behind his image inducer.  _

            Basically, when you got down to the nuts and bolts of it, he was pretty sure that it was his mutation she was attracted to, not him.  He'd actually met this problem before, just never wrapped up in quite such a disarming and innocuous package.  For the most part, he'd had no trouble informing such people that he wasn't really interested in being their 'pet freak', but this situation had him completely at a loss.  He was stuck in an uncomfortable stew of guilt over what she'd already gone through because of him, intense discomfort at his analysis of her motives, and a barely acknowledged and, he felt, truly pathetic fear that maybe this _was_ as good as it was going to get - maybe the best he _could ever hope for was to be someone's 'pet freak', and at least this someone wasn't insultingly obvious about it._

            So really, all things considered, Kurt wouldn't have been thrilled to run into Amanda on the best of mornings.  This particular Monday morning Amanda hadn't been far from the top on the list of people he least wanted to see.

            She had started in on him almost as soon as he walked through the door.  Dragging him off to a corner by the lockers, she had proceeded to run her hands through the fur on his face and neck while starting in on how lucky he was to be so unique and how much _sexier_ he was without the holo on.

            Not for the first time, he had had to viciously suppress the urge to tell her in graphic detail about just how _wonderful it was to go through life so 'unique.'  He'd heard it before, but that morning he'd gone from zero to thoroughly pissed off in about ten seconds flat._

            With a violent whip of his tail and a frustrated sigh Kurt decapitated the last clump of wildflowers within his reach.  It wasn't very satisfying, but it was marginally better than screaming and throwing things.  Deprived of that activity his tail settled in to beat erratically on the ground beside him, the only movement he allowed himself as he lay, eyes still shut, trying to ignore the fact that something very small, with way too many legs, was creeping slowly up the back of his neck.  

            He really didn't want to remember the ensuing conversation with Amanda, but his subconscious seemed determined to smack him upside the head with it whether he was interested or not.

            "Amanda, I **really** don't want to have this conversation right now.  In fact, I really don't want to have this conversation **ever again."  He'd known, as he spoke, that his voice was harsh and flat and pretty damned close to the freezing temperature of rubbing alcohol, but he really hadn't cared at the time.**

            Amanda had stepped back from him in confusion and given him a look that at any other time might have made him wonder if he'd suddenly sprouted horns, or grown a second head.  Monday he hadn't really cared, he'd been close to the end of his tether and realized that he needed to get away from her before it snapped.  She had opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated at the look of building fury on his face.

            "I'm sorry Amanda," he'd managed to choke out, "but I'm just not in the mood right now.  Maybe we can talk next week or something, but...right now I...I just think we need some time apart."  He'd actually managed to moderate his tone somewhat by the end, inspired in part by the dawning look of disbelief on her face.  He didn't really want to hurt her after all, he just didn't want to be with her.

            "But Kurt..." she'd started, eyes beginning to brim.

            "I'm really sorry, Amanda," he'd said again, and amazingly, he'd actually kind of meant it this time.  "I've gotta go.  We'll...we'll maybe talk sometime next week, okay?" and he'd shouldered his backpack and moved off towards his first class before she could say anything to stop him.  Her response had settled him somewhat, but he still had to get out of there before he said anything that couldn't be unsaid.

            He'd known, without having to look back, that she was standing there in shock, watching him leave.  He had actually tensed his shoulders as he'd walked away in anticipation of her chasing him down the hall and making a scene.  Thank God she'd had more dignity than that.  The way he had been teetering on the brink he either would have caved in with an abject apology or completely snapped and dressed her down at top volume in front of God and everybody.  At the time he hadn't been sure which possibility disturbed him more.

            The rest of the week had really just been a hazy blur of general misery punctuated by brief but vivid forays into total hell.  It felt like he'd spent the week playing hide and seek both at school and at home.  Hiding in the library or the gym, trying to avoid both Kitty and Amanda now.  Kitty at least cooperated by avoiding him back.  Amanda, on the other hand, took every opportunity to fix him with accusing glares or looks of teary eyed misery.  Those weren't nearly as painful, though, as the times when he'd catch sight of Kitty across a room or down a hall and see her look quickly away, blushing scarlet or with the color draining from her face.

            He'd actually been kind of grateful when he'd received detention on Tuesday for falling asleep in chemistry and again today for the same transgression in Algebra.  The hour he'd spent cleaning classrooms each day had simply been two more hours in the week that he hadn't had to worry about avoiding Kitty. 

            At least the push to get the work done on the mansion had everyone from home so distracted that he wasn't catching shit from any of them for acting so weird or never turning off his holo.  His injuries had almost all healed now, but he knew he was starting to drop weight and look fairly haggard and gaunt from the stress, so he was still using the image inducer for most of his waking hours.  Evan had given him a couple of funny looks and Jean seemed a bit suspicious, but between working with Scott and Logan on plumbing and finish carpentry, and begging off anything 'social' due to homework he'd managed to avoid both of them, and pretty much everyone else almost entirely.

            The biggest problem he'd had all week, though, was the simple fact that even though he'd run himself to exhaustion in the Danger Room Sunday night and every night since, it hadn't been enough to stop him dreaming.  He didn't understand, he was no stranger to gruesome and disturbing nightmares, but always in the past physical exhaustion had been sufficient to keep them at bay.  He couldn't fathom why that was no longer the case and he was rapidly reaching the end of his endurance.

            Sometimes it was a variation of the nightmare from Saturday, never quite so vivid or overwhelming as that first time, but more than sufficient to wake him trembling in a cold sweat and filled with rage and shame.  He had taken to eating sparingly at dinner, nothing more than he could metabolize in the Danger Room each night, due to the odds that it would all just come back up again within a few hours anyway.  Almost as disturbing, however, were the times when he awoke painfully aroused, his breath hitching in remembered passion, with the taste of strawberries and the feel of soft flesh burning in his memory.  Worst of all, though, was when one merged into the other - when it was Kitty's voice calling him an animal, her cruel, heartless laugh in the darkness behind him, or when she cried out in pain and fear beneath him, begging him to stop, to leave her alone, to please not hurt her, and he would wake, sobbing silently.  

            The silence, at least, was something to be thankful for.  He had been thoroughly conditioned to silence and even now, after all these years, he could not break it - not with anything louder than the tiniest of involuntary sounds, not even in his sleep.  At least that meant he didn't have to contend with Scott again.  The older boy could sleep through almost anything, the few moans or whimpers that escaped Kurt in the clutches of dream or nightmare didn't disturb him in the least.

            With the descent of full dark, the sounds of a forest night had overtaken the small clearing.  Cicadas were singing their hearts out, the grass rustled with the passage of the small, shy creatures of the darkness, and the soft call of an owl was followed swiftly by the almost silent rustle of its wings as it launched itself after prey.  The cool spring night was aglow with the myriad tiny sparks of fireflies dancing through the night, and bright moonlight flooded the small clearing.  

            With a quiet moan of anguish Kurt rolled over in the now damp grass, face buried in his crossed arms, completely and uncharacteristically oblivious to the beauty around him.  Pushing himself tiredly to his feet, he set off on the return journey to the bunker.  It was time for his nightly date with the Danger Room.  Just because it hadn't worked yet, didn't mean he could afford to stop trying.  Besides, who knew how much worse his nights might be if he _did_.

            It had taken Kitty a good ten minutes to cry herself out and then at least twenty more, with Rogue prodding her doggedly along, to get out the story of Saturday afternoon and its aftermath.  Now she sat there, red-faced, puffy-eyed and staring dejectedly at the floor, while Rogue attempted to make sense of the jumble of information she'd just managed to pry out of the younger girl.

            She'd tried to be non-judgmental and supportive through Kitty's anguished confession, but she knew she now had much the same deer in headlights look to her that Kitty had had earlier.

            Kitty and Kurt?  Well, stranger things _had happened.  And the tail thing?  __Don't **even** wanta think about that! she told herself emphatically.  _Way too much information.__

            She'd kind of suspected some of what was going to come out from the way the two had been acting lately, and from the nature of the dreams Kitty had obviously been having off and on all week.  But it was still kind of gross to know that anyone, especially her _room-mate_, thought of her 'little brother' that way.  What really got her though, sitting there looking at Kitty's miserable face, was the absolute certainty that the both of them had been putting themselves through hell all week over nothing.  

            She looked at the younger girl with a mixture of pity and disgust and finally spoke into the awkward silence that had filled the room since Kitty had stopped speaking.  "Kitty, do you have any idea how damned stupid you can be sometimes?"  She spoke very slowly and clearly, with little trace of her usual southern drawl, to make sure that her room-mate understood every word.

            Kitty's head snapped up in surprise at both her words and tone of voice.  She had obviously been expecting something more supportive or understanding.  Rogue could almost laugh at the comic look of confusion and anger on the younger teen's face if the situation weren't so damned pathetic.

            She didn't even give Kitty a chance to protest or question, but carried grimly on with what had to be said.  "Have you ever, _ever in all the time you've known Kurt, seen 'im hold a grudge?  Against anybody, for any reason?"  Kitty was still looking at her in total confusion, not yet catching on to what she had figured out almost immediately.  "Kitty, think about it ya eedjit.  Hell, I'm not sure he even hates any of the Brotherhood, an' if they haven't asked for it then no one has."_

            Kitty expression was starting to change from confusion to dawning understanding.  "What Ah'm sayin' here Sugar, is if ya had ever bothered ta kick your brain inta gear here, ya would've realized that the fuzzball is a helluva lot more likely to be blamin' himself for _whatever_ happened than he is ta be holdin' anythin' against you - ya damn fool."  Rogue realized she was being a bit harsh with her friend, especially as she watched all color drain from her face while the look of confusion was replaced with a sick kind of horror, but she seemed to have exhausted her rather limited store of empathy for the time being.  Kitty was just going to have to settle for taking it in the teeth like a big girl.  Besides, she wasn't too damn happy with the thought that, knowing Kurt, he had probably spent this entire week putting himself through ten kinds of guilt induced hell over what really amounted to a misunderstanding.  A pretty yucky misunderstanding, but still...  

            And Kitty _really_ should've had the sense not to start anything with Kurt in the first place.  He _had a girlfriend for crying out loud, or he had until recently anyway.  Now Rogue found herself wondering if the tension she'd noticed with Amanda this week had anything to do with what Kitty had told her.  But considering that Kitty had been stupid enough to start something, at least Kurt had had sense enough not to finish it and Kitty really should've known better than to think Kurt would hold a grudge over something like that._

            _I mean, come **on Kitty, this is Kurt we're talking about here girl.  The day he holds anything short of cold-blooded murder against 'his Kaetzchen' will be the day Bobby Drake takes over management of Hell!**_ she thought with more than her usual asperity.  _I mean yeah, it was worth some embarrassment, maybe a few awkward moments, but this had just gotten totally out of hand._

            Apparently Kitty agreed with her, because the younger girl surged abruptly to her feet and announced in a rather breathless voice.  "Like, oh my Gawd, Rogue.  You are so right.  Oh my Gawd, I've been, like, so damn **stupid**.  I've got to go find him, right now, and get this straightened out before I lose my nerve."

            She left the room so fast that Rogue didn't have a chance to tell her not to waste her time.  She'd seen Kurt head off into the woods right at dusk as she was coming down from above, and she was pretty certain he hadn't come back yet.  But Kitty would find that out for herself soon enough, and her absence gave Rogue a chance to do her packing in peace and quiet.  With any luck she could finish and be in bed and at least faking sleep before Kitty came back from her probably fruitless search.  At least that way she could avoid having to listen to the younger girl agonize over the situation ad nauseum.  

            With a resigned sigh, she dragged a duffel bag out from under her bed and began to throw her relatively meager possessions into it, nowhere near as neatly as she usually would have.  _Damn it'll be good ta git outa this dump and back home_, she thought.  _Ah won't even mind window washin' duty anymore, it'll be so nice just ta **have** a window again_.

            She was still awake when Kitty crept dejectedly back in an hour and a half later, but she did a good job of faking sleep and managed to avoid any recaps of the evening.  It was obvious both from the younger girl's demeanor and her mumbled commentary that she had not found the furry blue teleporter.  Rogue forced herself to roll over and turn a deaf ear to the girl's softly voiced compaints.  Tomorrow was plenty of time to clear things up with Kurt, they'd both survived the week so far, and one more night of misunderstanding wasn't going to kill anyone after all.  

            It was well after midnight before Kitty finally settled down and went to sleep, still mumbling intermittently to herself about how incredibly dense she'd been, but by then Rogue didn't really care, having managed to drift off quite a while before.  Her night, unfortunately, was filled with rather disturbing images of Kitty and her _brother_, for Christ's sake, doing things she'd really rather _not_ imagine.  _Ah mean, if it had been just about **anyone** else, that might've counted as a pretty good night, but **not with **Kurt** involved.**_

            When she woke up, bleary eyed and running late for school the next morning, she pledged to herself that she was going to make Kitty _pay for putting those images in her head in the first place - right after she figured out how to get at her brain so she could scrub the damned things out of there with bleach if necessary.  _Oh, gross_!_

TRANSLATIONS

Gegrusset seist Du, Maria.  Du bist  voll der Gnade; der Herr is mit dir.  Du bist gebenedeit unter den Frauen, und gebenedeit ist die Frucht deines Leibes, Jesus.  Heilige Maria, Mutter Gottes, bitte fur uns Sunder, jetzt und in der Stunde unseres Todes. Amen.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.  Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.  Holy Mary, Mother of God: pray for us, sinners, now and at the hour of our death.


	8. Watcher in the Dark

WATCHER IN THE DARK

            Eli Masters lowered his binoculars with a muffled curse.  This was getting fucking ridiculous.  He'd just had to sit here for the last twenty minutes watching that God damned blue-furred freak squatting in plain site without being able to do one damned thing about it.  He was really starting to think this whole surveillance was just one big, frustrating exercise in futility. 

            The freak not only never left the grounds, no one had ever seen it come anywhere _near_ the perimeter of the grounds either.  No damned wonder really.  It obviously had the sense to not want anyone to see it, and if it got within their safe pickup range it would also be within plain view of anyone on the road.

            He lifted his binoculars again to stare at the target, simmering with anger.  The freak was still just sitting there, fiddling with something in its deformed hands, and staring into space.  

            _God, I wish I could trade this fucking tranq gun in for a good sniper rifle.  Just one shot and no more furry freak to worry about!_ Masters thought with venom.  _I'm so fucking sick of this job I could scream._

            Just setting up surveillance without having that teep that ran the place or the Wolverine catch on to them had been an organizational and practical nightmare.  The pickup restrictions they were under were to ensure not only getting in and out before either of the two could stop them, it was to get them out before they could be identified and tracked either.  All they needed was to finally get their hands on the little animal only to have its friends track them down and tear the place apart trying to take it back.

            This whole operation could be packed up and gone without a trace in the time it would take a retrieval team to tranq the thing, take out the relevant perimeter monitors and defenses, jump the wall, grab the target and be out.  Well under ten minutes, probably under five if all went according to plan.  The problem was, it didn't look like the opportunity to put all this planning into action was ever going to present itself.

            Not if the brass still insisted that they had to stay completely beneath the radar of not only the local muties, but the government and the military.  No overwhelming force and no traceable information of any kind left behind.  Not even a bad smell for the Wolverine to piss and moan over if it could be helped.  The idea was for the freak to disappear, literally, without a trace.  If everything worked just right, in fact, it should look like it just took off on its own.

            Masters was beginning to think it would take an act of God for that to happen though.  He grunted in surprise as the thing unfolded itself from where it had been perched motionless on the wall by the drive for almost half an hour.  As it leapt gracefully to the ground Masters was forcibly reminded of a very large cat.  Damn he found it disturbing to watch the thing move!  Nothing even arguably bipedal should flow that way.  

            Admittedly it would be **very useful if they caught it, but there were still days when he wished that they could just blow the whole place and all the mutie freaks in it right back to whatever hell had spawned them and be done with it.  He almost didn't care how useful the monster would be to the cause once they got hold of him, because he no longer thought there was any reasonable chance that they ever would.**

            No matter though, he had is orders and he'd follow them.  As the creature stalked off in the direction of the woods to the south, Masters relayed its position and direction to the next sentinel in the southward line.  He didn't delude himself anymore with false hopes that the thing would actually come within range, but orders were orders and it was someone else's problem for the time being.

            With another quiet curse, Sergeant Eli Masters settled back down to wait out the remainder of his watch in the quiet chill of the New York spring.


	9. Reconciliation

                        RECONCILIATION

            Kurt crouched comfortably on the rail of the balcony outside his room, just to one side of the half open double doors, gazing out across the familiar sweep of the Institute grounds to the tranquil expanse of the vast Atlantic ocean.  It was so familiar and welcome to be here, on the rail of _his_ balcony, just outside _his_ room and looking out across grounds to the ocean beyond.  Tomorrow, for the first time in months, he would wake in his own room (albeit on the floor) and be able to sit here and watch the sun rise over the sea.

       He could hear the small incidental noises of the other occupants of the huge house.  Voices drifting down the hall as some of the others moved bedding or clothes into their rooms, the clatter of dishes from Evan and a few of the Jamies cleaning up after dinner in the kitchen below.  He could see Sam, sitting on the edge of the fountain below and admiring the same view he was.  Even the quiet chatter of a television was drifting up through one of the ground floor windows to break the tranquility of the evening.  Ray, Evan and Bobby had insisted that just because there wasn't a stick of furniture in the place didn't mean that they couldn't bring a TV over from the 'catacombs' for the regular Friday night movie marathon.  It was good to be _home_.  

            Kurt heard someone trying the door in the room behind him, but didn't bother to turn.  The door was unlocked and it was doubtless Logan come to get him for the Danger Room session they had arranged earlier in the day.  The older man had cornered him after school and finally dragged out of him the admission that his late night 'exercises' weren't doing the trick.  He'd been afraid Logan would ask for details, or suggest that he take his problem to the Professor, but he should have known better.  This was the Wolverine, after all was said and done.  He had simply offered to join him in running a sim tonight.  He'd claimed he needed to make sure everything was in working order before throwing the New Mutants into it in the morning.  

       "Misfit, if I can't run ya 'til ya drop and can't get up again then all the beer ya can drink is on me."  The older man had grinned evilly and Kurt had laughed despite himself.  "Hell, it's Friday, we'll run ya inta the ground and then get ya shit-faced Elf.  Between the two of 'em you should sleep like a baby.  They'll have ta drag ya outa yer room fer dinner tomorrow night by the time I'm done with ya."

       Quite honestly, at this point the prospect of getting absolutely blind roaring drunk was infinitely more appealing than Logan running him to exhaustion, but he'd take either option or both if it would just stop the nightmares and give him one uninterrupted night's sleep.  He had agreed with alacrity, as grateful for the older mutant's refusal to pry as he was for his concern.

       "Good, I've got some things to take care of after dinner.  So I'll come collect yur furry ass when I'm ready."  He'd turned and headed off down the corridor.  "But don't be too hard ta find.  See ya later kid," he'd added over his shoulder as he turned the corner.

            "Kurt?"  He froze at the questioning voice in the dim room behind him, even his tail tip motionless, pulled back from his reverie in shock.  He hadn't even heard the door open or someone actually entering his room.  He'd been lost in thought and simply enjoying these last few moments of peace, expecting Logan to bark at him to get his ass in gear at any moment.

       "Kurt, are you in there?"  The voice was both tentative and tense, unsure of a welcome.  Angry perhaps, and a little afraid.  _Bitte__ Gott, not afraid, he thought with a physical pang of concern.  He could handle Kitty furious with him, disgusted with him, even hating him, but the thought of her afraid of him made him want to curl up and die._

       "Nein, Kaetzchen, I'm out here, on the balcony."  It was an effort to keep his voice level, to keep it from trembling as he heard her pick her way carefully through the darkness of the room to the dimness of the balcony in the last lingering light of dusk.  He didn't turn as she approached, afraid his glowing eyes would startle her if they appeared suddenly in the darkness.  

       How long had it been since he'd had to worry about that with Kitty?  He hunched himself further, tail lashing, as his stomach tightened with nerves, unconsciously preparing for a blow.  He briefly considered teleporting away, too strung out to face this conversation right now, but he knew, dimly, that it was her right to pick the time and place for this confrontation and he wouldn't deny her that.  He just hoped Logan didn't show up until _after_ she'd finished ripping him a new asshole.

       He'd been able to feel exactly where she was as she approached, yet he almost jumped right out of his skin when he felt a small hand settle on his shoulder.

       "Ach, Kaetzchen," he began in a rush, "I'm so, so sorry Liebe, so..."

       "Will you stop it and look at me," she interrupted him impatiently, her hand tightening its grip on his shoulder and making as if to pull him around.  "Just stop it alright!"  Her voice was angry now and sounding close to tears as he obeyed, placing his hands on the railing so that he could lower his feet to the floor and turn to meet her eyes.  

       He was totally unprepared when, without even waiting for him to finish turning, she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest.  Every muscle in his body was tense and he almost didn't dare to breathe as her muffled voice drifted out from the folds of his rumpled shirt, "Oh Fuzzy, I can't believe we've spent an entire week _doing_ this to each other!"

       "Was?" he mumbled, hardly able to find his voice or believe what was happening.  She wasn't screaming?  Wasn't afraid?  She was _touching_ him?  "Was wir hat, Machen sind gewesen?  Ach, Gott, ich bin sehr verwirrt."  It seemed his command of the English language had failed him entirely. 

       Kitty pushed back from him, just far enough to look up into his face, and there was a spark of laughter behind the glint of tears in her eyes, "English Fuzzy, I can't understand a word you're saying."

       "Liebchen, I don't...I don't understand," Kurt's voice was no longer steady and he had lifted his arms as though to return Kitty's embrace, but he couldn't quite bring himself to put them around her.  "Was have we been doing to each other?  I...I thought you were, that you were...angry mit me...disgusted mit me..._afraid of me_."  His voice had dropped to almost a whisper and his arms had fallen back to his sides as he spoke.  It was only through sheer force of will that he managed to maintain eye contact, so fearful was he of seeing the emotions he had just named reflected in her eyes.

       "Oh Kurt," she said in a sad voice, reaching one small hand up to cup his furry cheek.  "I could never be afraid of you, not anymore.  I...I thought that _you were upset at __me, for...for what I did...what I said," and her eyes shifted away in embarrassment.  "I thought that you were...angry and...and disgusted with how I threw myself at you and then...," she had blushed crimson to the roots of her hair and her voice trailed off uncertainly.  He could tell that she was thinking of what had happened at the end, when he'd...lost control.  He could feel an answering blush rising in his cheeks and was glad that it was hidden under his fur.  __Ach, imagine being thankful for **fur**.  I guess it comes in handy sometimes._

       "Nein, Kaetzchen, nein," his voice was soft now, soothing, and he finally lifted his arms to wrap them gently around her hips as he spoke, eyes closed against the embarrassment.  "I was angry with myself Kleines, I should not have...have taken advantage of your pain...and..."

       "Oh, stop it Kurt!" Her voice was sharp, and his eyes snapped open to gaze down at her in confusion.  "Just stop it," and her voice was only marginally softer now, "you didn't 'take advantage' of me Kurt Wagner, I threw myself at you like some oversexed nympho!  I wouldn't take no for an answer even when you tried to stop things if you'll bother to remember you fuzzy idiot!"  He could feel his eyes going progressively wider throughout this tirade.  "In fact," she added in a softer voice now, "I almost didn't take no for an answer at all.  Thank you Kurt, for protecting me," and she reached up again to gently cup his cheek.  As she softly stroked the downy fur of his face, he didn't think it prudent to remind her that what he'd been protecting her from was himself.

       He nearly stepped back in shock as her hand purposely moved the short distance required to slip around the back of his neck and pull his head down to her.  He almost resisted the gentle pressure...almost, but...her moist lips were parted just enough that her delicate pink tongue was barely visible between white teeth, and...he could smell just the faintest hint of...strawberries.  

       He felt his breath catch in his throat as their lips met and...parted...and the whole world narrowed down to the soft warmth of her lips...the taste of her mouth...the feel of her body pressed against him as he tightened his arms around her and his tail snaked out to wrap itself around her thigh.  He could feel her hands shifting, tugging at the hem of his shirt until she had pulled it loose and could reach beneath it, running her hands through the fur on his back...her nails scraping lightly through the nap to his skin as she ruffled it the wrong way.  He deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue out to run along her lips and teeth, felt her gently suck on it as he moaned and raised one hand to the back of her head, the other reaching down to grasp her backside while his tail tip flicked lightly across the bare skin just below the hem of her cropped pants.  Her hands drifted down in turn, beginning to slip beneath the waist band of his pants and...

       _This is **wrong**.  Scheisse, I've been dating Amanda for months and we've never gone this far.  We're going to end up right back where we were last Saturday_.  With a groan of effort he broke the kiss and, moving his hands to Kitty's shoulders, pushed her gently away.  Her eyes were wide and her moist lips still slightly parted as she looked accusingly up at him.  It took him a moment to catch his breath enough to speak.

       "What are we doing Kaetzchen?" he asked softly, hesitantly.  He was surprised at how thick has accent sounded to his own ears.  "We have been friends...good friends...for months Liebchen.  Why are we doing this now?"  He had to rush to force himself to finish what he needed to say.  "Saturday...that...that was about stress and, maybe, fear and **definitely about large quantities of overactive hormones Kaetzchen.  But, but what is this today?"  He didn't know what answer he expected, but he had to ask.  He had to know what she thought this was about, because he wasn't at all sure what it meant to him.  There was no doubt about what his body was telling him, but that wasn't the only thing that mattered here.  Not with Kaetzchen, not with a friend.**

       "Don't tell me you don't want this Kurt.  Maybe I am being...forward and, and **brazen** and...  Oh, I don't know!  But don't tell me you don't want this just as much as I do."  Her voice was low and urgent and her eyes were burning into him.  "I don't know where it came from Kurt, or what it's about.  I don't want to analyze it into the ground.  I just know that on Saturday it...it felt **right** to be with you.  That...that I wanted to...to be with you...more than I've ever wanted, you know...that...with anyone before."  She was looking away now, embarrassed by her words but determined to get them out, and as she spoke he found himself irrationally focused on the warm sweep of dark lashes against her cheeks. 

       He cleared his throat, trying to find his voice to speak but she looked up, meeting his eyes again as she laid her fingertips against his lips.  "I'm not finished Fuzzy," she said softly, almost pleadingly.  "Let me finish?"

       He nodded mutely, suppressing a shudder at the feeling her soft fingers against his mouth sent through his body.

       "Kurt, I...I just know that...Well, that since last Saturday I haven't been able to stop thinking about...you...and about **us** and..."

       She was interrupted by the sound of Kurt's door being thrown roughly open.  They sprang apart as though burned as Logan's gruff voice echoed through the nearly empty room.  "Hey, Elf!  Ya ready?"

       "Ja, Herr Logan, I'm coming.  I'll, I'll meet you downstairs in a moment, bitte?"  Kurt called back to the older man, pleased to note that his voice neither trembled nor cracked despite his surprise.

       "'kay Elf, I'll get suited up and be waiting.  Don't take too long," and Kurt saw Kitty relax as they heard the door shut behind the older mutant.

       "It looks like we'll have to continue this...conversation...later, nein?" he asked her softly.  "I have an appointment with a certain vicious sociopath in the Danger Room and being late is usually frowned upon, ja?"  He tried to put on a grin for her but knew that it wasn't one of his more successful attempts.  He wasn't quite sure what to make of this entire situation and he was simply too physically and emotionally exhausted to be able to slip easily into a 'mask' right now.  She seemed to appreciate the attempt however.

       "Yeah Fuzzy, you'd better get going," she told him with her own weak attempt at a smile.  "You don't want to get on Mr. Logan's bad side, do you?  But, you know, his timing?  It, like, sucks!"  

       Her descent into valley girlese for the first time since entering his room seemed to break some of the tension and he felt that the smile he aimed at her this time was considerably more genuine than the last.

       She paused, looking into his eyes, then reached out and swatted him lightly on the chest.  "Go on, shoo!"  They both laughed and he raised his arms to "protect" himself from any further attacks as he turned to leave. 

       "All right, all right, I'm leaving," he told her through his laughter.  "But you didn't seem quite so eager to get rid of me just a moment ago, Liebchen."

       He was heading through the french doors back into his room, preparing to grab his swords on the way to the locker room, when he was stopped by her voice behind him.

       "I'm still not, Fuzzy, but I **know better than to let you keep Logan waiting," he turned to look at her, eyes glowing in the darkness of the room, one three-fingered hand on the door frame.  "And Kurt, we will finish...this...later, right?" she asked.  Something in her voice sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. **

       _Well, **that** was unexpected_, Logan thought to himself as he headed down the stairs on his way to the service elevator and the sub-basement.  _Whatever's been goin' on maybe Elf and Half-Pint are gonna get it worked out.  Just sure as hell hope it makes things better, not worse, 'cause the kid's damn close to slippin' off the edge as it is._

            Was wir hat, machen sind gewesen? - What have we been doing?

            Ich bin sehr verwirrt - I am so confused.

            Bitte - please or you're welcome

            mit - with

            Scheiss - shit


	10. Reflections

REFLECTIONS

            Kurt jogged hurriedly down the hall to the service elevator to the sub-basement.  It felt strange and barren with none of the art or decor he'd become used to since taking up residence.  The walls were all painted and the ornate moldings and trims were in place, but without the marble pedestals and busts, the elegant vases and the elaborately framed old paintings lining the hallways it seemed like exactly what it was - unfinished and rather empty.  Even this way, however, it was infinitely preferable to the stark, cold confines of the 'vault', he reflected as he waited for the darkly paneled elevator doors to open.  

            He could have 'ported straight down to the hallway outside the Danger Room and saved himself some time, but he was fairly certain he'd want every ounce of energy he could muster in the next few hours and besides, the elevator ride gave him time to think over what had just happened.  It was strange and more than a little unnerving, to find he had been so completely wrong; it was also the most wonderful relief.  He wasn't entirely sure where they were going go to go from here, but there was absolutely no doubt that it had to be better than where they'd been already.  

            He knew he had a goofy grin plastered across his face, but he couldn't help it.  Kitty wasn't angry with him, she wasn't frightened of him.  He was afraid he might wake up and find out that the last twenty minutes had been a dream.  Unless and until that happened, however, he was quite content to bask in the simple fact that, quite contrary to hating or fearing him, his best friend seemed to actually _want him, or at least to think she did.  That was easily as confusing as it was reassuring, especially given the fact that he quite definitely returned the sentiment.  He realized suddenly that his eyes had slipped shut and his breathing was getting short as his mind drifted back to her parting comment as he'd left.  He had absolutely no idea where this might leave them when all was said and done, other than perhaps in a great deal of trouble, but it was still infinitely preferable to what he'd spent the entire week believing.  _

            He forced his breathing to slow and shifted his focus to the coming session with Logan.  By the time the elevator opened on the corridor of locker rooms leading to the Danger Room, Kurt was feeling more relaxed than he had all week.  He was still looking forward to this session with Logan, and he wasn't going to try and delude himself into thinking this reconciliation with Kitty would solve all his problems or put an end to his nightmares, but it was a start, and a good one.  

            It only took him a few moments to suit up in the locker room before he was off to join Logan in the simulation chamber at the end of the hall, pausing just outside the door for the time it took to wipe any trace of a grin from his face.  It wouldn't do to have his teacher think he wasn't taking this seriously; he was doubtless in for enough abuse as it was - he didn't need to add to that by aggravating the man.  As the doors slid open he entered the room, swords in hand, and hoped briefly that Logan hadn't been joking about getting drunk when they were done here - he was probably going to need it by the time this night was over.

            Kitty stood out on the balcony outside Kurt's room for a long time after he left, arms wrapped around herself against the evening chill as the last light of day faded from the sky.  She felt like her life was spiraling out of control.  

            _What's wrong with me?_ she thought with a hint of desperation.

            She hadn't come to see Kurt tonight just to start a re-play of Saturday afternoon, she just had to see if what Rogue had said was true and it had pained her more than she thought possible to realize that it was - that he had spent the entire week **punishing** himself because she had basically jumped him and then pushed him over the edge.  Jeez, he was a sixteen year old boy after all, how much self control did anyone really expect him to have?  She would've expected a whole lot less than he actually ended up displaying.  It hurt her that he had honestly expected her to be angry and afraid, and moreover that he believed he deserved it.  It was all there on his face, clear as day when she really looked at him, his eerie golden eyes dimmed with shame.

            He had been so close and so...vulnerable...standing there and it had seemed the easiest, most natural thing in the world to reach out to him and then, how better to prove that she was neither angry nor afraid than with a kiss?  Just one kiss, on the cheek, wouldn't be so bad.  She knew now, from the vantage of twenty/twenty hindsight, that she had been lost from the moment her fingers touched the velvet of his cheek.  She couldn't delude herself that there had ever been even a pretense of a chaste kiss between friends.  By the time he had surrendered to the pressure of her guiding hand on his neck she had been lost in the molten gold of his eyes. As he bent towards her she had already been parting her lips to taste him and the world had narrowed down to nothing but the two of them and the rising heat in her belly as she pressed against him, feeling herself gathered into his strong embrace.

            Her eyes snapped open as a shiver passed through her.  She took a deep breath and tried to calm her racing heart.  Gazing out on the rhythmic surge and swell of the ocean she realized why Kurt found this view so calming.  She leaned her elbows on the low wall where he had been perched when she found him and tried to lose herself in the vastness of the sea.

            _He was right to ask what's happening between us_, she thought with some frustration.  _But I don't **know** and I really **don't want to analyze it into the ground.  God, why can't**_ _we just accept that it's something good and leave it at that?  I mean it's not like I'm throwing myself at some stranger out of the blue, and it's not like I'm easy or a nympho.  I dated Lance for, like, months and never even let him get a **hand in my pants, let alone anything else.  And this is ****Kurt.  So we've never actually dated or anything, we've been, like, best friends for ages.  Maybe this is just, like, the next natural step.**_

            The world had become such a frightening place in the last few months.  Attacked by a giant, killer robot from hell; exposed on national, _no international_, television; their home destroyed; hunted by the military.  Even now they were taunted, harassed and threatened on a daily basis.  Thinking about it she realized that some of the only times she had felt truly _safe_ and _relaxed and totally _accepted_ had been when she was with Kurt and now...?  Now she didn't want to risk losing what she was coming to realize was the best friendship she had ever had, but she also didn't want to give up on the chance that it could be something more._

            She knew now that life was, in fact, very uncertain and potentially very short.  It had been a painful but effective lesson.  With the rising tide of anti-mutant sentiment in the world it could be only a matter of time before some looney decided to rid the world of one or more of the 'filthy muties' and she didn't want to risk losing Kurt, and whatever they might have between them, without ever really having had him.  Moreover, she realized with a small jolt, breath catching with the surprise of the revelation, she really didn't want to die a virgin.  She'd never really thought of it before now, perhaps because she'd never _really_ wanted to be with anyone in that way before, but it was true.  If she were to be killed on some mission, or simply gunned down by a madman on the street, she didn't want to die without ever knowing what it was like to make love to a man, and she _did want to make love to Kurt._

            She felt a tear slip down her cheek as these thoughts ran through her head.  _My God, I'm only sixteen.  I don't want to die, I don't want to **think about dying, or about my friends dying.  But...I don't want to die without...  Her thoughts trailed away into emptiness as she felt more tears follow the trail of the first and she lowered her head onto her arms where they rested on the balcony rail and simply let them fall.**_

            It was almost half an hour before she could recover herself sufficiently to join the others in the common room for movie night.  She had no idea when Kurt would be back and she couldn't simply lurk in his room and mope all night.  Maybe the company would distract her while she waited for Kurt to finish with Mr. Logan.  One thing she knew was that they couldn't go another night without working things out, whatever the outcome.  She'd made a start and she had to see it through.


	11. Dazed and Confused

Chapter 11 - DAZED AND CONFUSED

Don't want to read the author's notes and rant?  Skip down a few paragraphs.

Author's Note:

Decided to quit deluding people into thinking there're more chapters by posting this separately.  

So, **huge thanks to everyone who continues to read and review.  I'd probably keep writing even if you didn't, 'cause it's fun, but it's nicer knowing someone actually gives a damn.  Gives me warm fuzzies to get to read all the nice reviews.  Not that you aren't welcome to write not nice reviews if it tickles your fancy.  ****Constructive criticism is a ****good thing.  Go ahead, be specific.  What worked and what didn't.  Like to POV changes or not.  Want to get the hell out of their heads and just have something **happen**?  Let me know.  (Not that it'll change what I write, but I am interested.  I'm trying to get better here after all, and this is the first writing I've done in over fifteen years so I'll take all the help I can get.)**

I have, finally, started reformatting this into a text file for aff.net.  The first chapter is up there, but there will be no difference in what I post at each site until I get to chapter 12.  At that point I'm considering keeping a tame version here and a racy version over there.  I'll see if it looks like it's worth the effort when the time comes.

Oh, by the way, my husband has just informed me that I am not a benevolent God.  I'm apparently more the Old Testament tribulations of Job kind of deity.  Translation - I like to torture those I've chosen.  And I can't even give the biblical excuse that it's to test their loyalty, it's **just because I can.  In my defense - suffering builds character?  Didn't buy that one?  How about adversity gives character a chance to shine?  OK, how about I'm just perverse?  That one works fine for me.**

Anyway, one of the things I love about Kurt in any of his various incarnations is the fact that he is the person he is despite his circumstances.  The heart of an angel in the body of a demon.  Willing to see the humanity in everyone, even those who deny his own.  Even though I'm an atheist, I even love the juxtaposition of his faith with the demonic appearance.

I do have the entire outline for my version of his childhood and yes, I've thrown in some weird and disturbing shit.  I find it very hard to imagine that he could make it through sixteen years looking like that without facing some pretty twisted stuff.

Hope y'all enjoy

DAZED AND CONFUSED

            It was well after one in the morning when Kurt finally staggered unsteadily through his door.  He leaned heavily against the doorframe and yawned broadly behind his hand as he tried half-heartedly to wave Logan away.  He had to admit that he wouldn't have made it this far without the older man's help, but he was not about to be tucked into bed like a wayward toddler, no matter how drunk he was.  He did find himself very glad of the fact that Logan had little more need for artificial light than he did, because even the moonlight falling across the floor of his room was blindingly bright in his current, _sensitive condition._

            Logan had been, predictably, true to his word.  He drilled Kurt until he was very close to over-extending himself.  They had worked with and without weapons, with and without powers, he had run Kurt through sims requiring strength or speed or skill, and sometimes all three.  It had been just over two and a half hours of unmitigated hell on earth.  When it was all done and they had both showered and changed, Logan had determined that the younger man was still fully conscious, cognizant of his surroundings and capable of remembering his own name and had thence taken it as his personal duty to rectify all three conditions.

            Now Kurt found himself in the unique position of carrying on a drunken conversation with the Wolverine at bumblefuck in the morning while trying not to wake his fellow students.  Well, drunken on his end anyway.  With his healing factor Logan had only managed to attain a state best described as 'relaxed', despite drinking _at least two beers for every one Kurt downed.  Of course, for the Wolverine relaxed was something of an accomplishment._

            "Danke, Logan," he told the feral mutant.  "I'm fine from here mein Freund."  He yawned again, this time not bothering to cover it, and Logan watched in apparent bemusement.

            _Probably wondering how long 'til my face splits in two,_ Kurt thought irrationally as he peered at the older man through half closed eyes.

            "Ya sure you c'n manage Elf?  You're pretty damned plastered," Logan responded, sounding uncharacteristically mellow.  

            _Ja__, he may not be drunk, but he's definitely feeling more relaxed than usual.  Kurt thought through a beer-induced haze.  Aloud he answered, "Ja Logan.  Mein Gott, if I could not manage to drag my own ass to bed anything short of blind drunk they might revoke my German citizenship.  And I am not - quite - that drunk yet."  He paused, swaying slightly.  "Aber ich nahe verdammt bin!" he added with a drunken snicker.  _

            He was vaguely aware of the fact that he was grinning like an idiot, but he didn't really care.  _It's amazing what half a case of good, dark German beer can do to a man's inhibitions_, he thought hazily.  He was pretty damn certain that he had actually been trading insults with the Wolverine at some point in the last few hours - perhaps several points, he really wasn't too clear on much that had happened since about eleven-thirty.  He also seemed to remember actually trying to badger the older man into singing German folk songs with him.  Not only that, but there was Logan, standing in the students' hallway, reeking of beer, with a grin on his face and...shushing...Kurt like a three year old.

            _Mein__ Gott, I hope I remember this in_ the morning!_ he thought with drunken fervor but not much real hope.  He'd been thoroughly shit-faced enough in his sixteen years that even at the height of inebriation he realized the futility of trying to hold on to any details._

            "Quiet down Elf.  Ya don't need to wake the whole damned house," Logan was hissing in an exaggerated stage whisper and Kurt found himself doubling over in laughter, trying desperately but ineffectively not to make any noise.

            A large hand clamped down on his shoulder and he was propelled gently but firmly into his room, tears running down his cheeks and still wheezing with now silent laughter.  The door closed behind him with an audible thump.

            "Something funny Misfit?" Logan asked in what was doubtless meant to be a dangerous voice, an effect that was compromised somewhat by the fact that he was trying to stifle his own laughter.

            As soon as Logan had released his grip on the younger mutant's shoulder Kurt had leaned heavily against the wall and slid helplessly down to the floor, still laughing sporadically.  "Nein, Logan.  Nein, nothing funny at all mein Freund," he managed to gasp.  

            "Okay, kid, up you go," the older man told him, his voice steadier as he reached down and dragged Kurt bodily to his feet.  "It's time for good little elves to toddle off to bed now, and I don't want to see your fuzzy blue face until after lunch.  Understand?"  

            By this time Kurt had been bodily moved to the small half-bath adjoining his room and was beginning to regain some control of himself.  The alternative seemed to be the very real prospect that Logan would, indeed, insist on getting him all tucked into bed like a 'good little elf.'

            "I'm going, I'm going," he protested with inebriated dignity.  "Can't a man have some privacy around here," and he placed one hand firmly in the center of Logan's chest (well he'd meant it to be the center anyway, and close counts, right?) and pushed him firmly (he hoped) out of the bathroom, closing the door a little **too** firmly behind him.

            "Man? Hmmph!" he heard Logan's sardonic voice from the other side of the door.

            He leaned heavily against the vanity, laughing again at the tone of Logan's voice and trying to convince himself that he really did have the energy to brush his teeth before bed.  He finally stopped laughing long enough to compromise on a brief gargle with the mouthwash he'd left sitting on the counter earlier when he'd unpacked, nearly choking himself when he randomly remembered the look on Logan's face when he'd tried to get him to sing "Let it Be" an hour or so back.  Spitting hastily into the sink, he wiped his face on the one towel he'd left hanging there and then spent a very necessary couple of minutes recycling a significant percentage of the beer he'd imbibed over the course of the evening.

            With a contented sigh, he left his pants lying on the bathroom floor and began to shrug out of his t-shirt as he emerged from the bathroom and began to weave unsteadily in the general direction of the pile of blankets he'd brought over to use as a bed.  He nearly jumped out of his skin when someone reached out and helped him pull his shirt the rest of the way over his head (a good thing, since he had been in the process of becoming hopelessly tangled in the damn thing).

            "Are you **still** here?" he growled with mock ferocity as Logan's face swam blearily into focus in front of him.  It really was becoming more effort than it was worth to keep his eyes open, or even to stay on his feet.  He was barely even aware of the fact when the older man lifted him easily as he swayed on his feet and his knees began to buckle.  By the time Logan laid him gently down in the nest he'd made of Kurt's blankets while the boy was in the bathroom, the teen was completely unconscious and beginning to snore softly.

            "Sweet dreams, Elf," the feral X-man said softly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, "God knows you need 'em," and he let himself silently out into the hall to begin his nightly rounds of the mansion and grounds.  He wouldn't seek his own bed unless and until he was sure that every member of his 'pack' was safe and accounted for.

            Kitty hesitated briefly outside the door to Kurt's room.  There were no sounds in the darkened hallway beyond the muffled snores resonating from behind some of the other closed doors.

            She wasn't even sure that Kurt was in there.  He hadn't been when she had checked at twelve thirty on her way to bed with everyone else after movie night ended.  She'd sat up with her door ajar, trying to read but in reality listening for the sound of him returning, difficult as that would be to hear.  She didn't know when she had finally drifted off to sleep, only that she had awoken with a start as she slipped uncomfortably down the wall where she had been propped up with her book.  She hadn't bothered to plug her digital alarm clock in yet and had had to check her watch in the dim glow of moonlight through her window to find that it was after three thirty.  Whatever Kurt had been doing since his Danger Room session with Logan, he would have to be back in his room by now.

            So three forty-five found her standing uncertainly outside the door to his room, still fully clothed and trying to work up the nerve to go in.  Nervously, she checked the pocket of her jeans once more for the small foil packet she'd 'liberated' from the med-bay earlier, during a break between movies.  She had no clear idea where this 'conversation' she planned might go, but she did know that if it headed anywhere along the same track as Saturday afternoon she didn't want it derailed in the same way.  She felt her cheeks go hot and knew she was blushing scarlet as the full impact of exactly what she was about to do hit her for the first time.  She almost turned back - almost.  Before she could lose her nerve she took a deep breath and phased quickly and silently through the door into Kurt's room.

            It took her a moment to get her bearings in the dimness of the moonlit room.  The lack of furniture made the space seem even larger than it was and she stood for a moment, just inside the door, as she looked for any sign of Kurt's presence.  The double doors out onto Kurt's balcony were still open from earlier in the evening, admitting a silver trail of moonlight and a cool spring breeze.  The only change from earlier was a rumpled pile of blankets in the middle of the floor, just at the edge of the wide band of moonlight spilling across the floor from the doorway.  There was no sign of Kurt anywhere.  Kitty was about to cross the room and check to see if Kurt was occupying his favorite perch on the balcony rail when she was startled by the sound of a soft moan from somewhere in the room.

            She stopped, eyes wide in the moonlight, as she scanned the room once again and finally managed to discern the vague outline of a body where Kurt lay curled atop the jumble of blankets.  Even focusing all her attention on the sleeping teen she could not make out any details beyond the simple fact that he was there.  She mentally kicked herself for forgetting that he was all but impossible to see in anything but the best of light unless you already knew where he was.  She wondered if he had actually been asleep there already when she came by earlier, after all, if he'd remained silent she could have walked right past and never even known he was there.

            No matter now, though.  With an effort she stilled the trembling in her hands and stepped closer to the make-shift bed, unsure how much of her shivering was due to nerves and how much to the cool breeze from the door.  Between staring very hard and greater proximity she could now see that he was curled up on his side, wearing nothing but a pair of plaid flannel boxers, his tail draped along his side with the tip twitching lazily just a few inches from his face.  He had made no further noise since the moan that had alerted her to his presence, but as she watched he stretched, inhumanly graceful even in sleep, and rolled onto his back.  He came to rest with one arm pillowed behind his head and the other draped across his middle, thick fingers running through the velvet fur of his belly as his tail undulated restlessly between his feet.

            Kitty stood, transfixed, as he moaned again, lips pulling back from gleaming fangs in a grimace that could be pleasure or pain, and she noticed for the first time the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his breath coming in quiet, but none-the-less labored gasps.  She hesitated, almost turning to leave, but surely...if he was having a nightmare then...then it would be best to wake him anyway?  

            "Kurt?"  Her voice seemed loud in the vast emptiness of the dark room, though in reality it had been barely above a whisper.  No response - she took another hesitant step towards him, crossing into the shaft of moonlight from the doors as she moved, and tried again, slightly louder this time.  

            "Kurt?  Wake up Fuzzy.  Please, we...we need to talk."  He shifted in his sleep, his tail lashing out abruptly to the side as he rolled slightly towards her, eyes still shut and fangs still bared.  She didn't know if he had moved in response to her voice or to some internal stimulus, but three more quick steps and she was beyond the bar of moonlight and at his side, reaching a tentative hand for his shoulder as she knelt on the blanket beside him.

            "Come on Fuzzy," her voice squeaked and her hand was trembling with nerves as she leaned tentatively over him, grasped his sleep warm shoulder and gently shook him.  "Wake up already, Kurt.  If you had any idea how hard this is..." her voice trailed off as golden eyes blinked blearily up at her and a strong, three-fingered hand reached up to grasp her wrist and stop her shaking him.

            "Kaetzchen?" he asked sleepily, his voice low and warm and a slow smile curving his lips.  "Commst du hier." 

            Kitty had absolutely no idea what he was saying and found she really didn't care as he rolled back slightly so that he could reach up with his other hand and pull her down to him.  His thick fingers tangled roughly in the soft hair at the nape of her neck and it was a matter of only a few inches to close the gap between them.  Then his lips were pressing firmly, insistently, against hers and she forgot everything but the warmth of his skin and the musky sweetness of his mouth.  

            He maintained his grip on her neck, but she gasped as the other hand left her wrist and drifted down to grasp her backside at the same time that his tail wrapped around her waist and she felt herself pulled, unresisting, to lie full length along him.  He had parted her lips with his tongue and was exploring her mouth in a way that sent chills down her spine, his hand gripping her ass and pulling her more tightly to him.  She felt his erection pressing against her crotch and surrendered to the almost overwhelming desire to run her fingers through his fur.  He shivered beneath her as she ran her right hand softly along his bare side, first with the nap of his fur and then, more firmly, against it.  She let her hand dip beneath the waistband of his boxers to caress his flat hip and felt him moan against her mouth, shifting slightly to allow her to slip her hand beneath him and grasp his firm yet velvet soft ass.

            She was somewhat surprised at how rapidly this was progressing, but couldn't quite muster enough concern to try and slow things down - his lips, his body, his hands, it all felt so good.  It wasn't until he flipped her to her back with the same ease he had demonstrated Saturday but little of the gentleness that she began to realize that something was not - quite - right.  

            She forced herself to really look at him for the first time since his kiss had sent her body into overdrive.  The golden eyes burning down into hers in the dark were still glazed with sleep and almost blank, and he seemed not...rough...so much as uncharacteristically aggressive.  She knew from Saturday, and even just last night, that it wasn't like Kurt to move so quickly.  She was beginning to realize that she had perhaps interrupted not a nightmare, but a dream and that, moreover, she hadn't actually succeeded in waking him up after all.

            _Oh there is no way that this can be good_, she thought with a hint of panic.  _If I wake him up now things could be **very** bad, but if I don't wake him up now things **will** be even worse.  How the **hell did I manage to get myself into this one?**_

            He brought one large hand up to lightly caress her cheek as he deepened the kiss.  The warmth of his breath and the ragged gasps of his labored breathing were almost too much for her and she actually considered not waking him at all, or at least not yet, she didn't want this to stop.  Then, abruptly, his knee was pressing between her thighs and his hand had slipped from her cheek to fumble awkwardly at the button on her jeans and she knew she had to do something.  She might want to sleep with him, but this was **not** the way she wanted it to happen.

            With an effort she turned her head to break the kiss and reached up to grasp him firmly by both shoulders.  She gasped as he simply took the opportunity to shift his attention to her jaw and neck, alternately kissing and nipping at her sensitive skin as he wrapped his tail around one of her ankles and used it to tug her legs farther apart.

            She was having trouble finding her voice, but when the button on her jeans suddenly gave and he switched his attention to her zipper she managed to squeak out, "Kurt!  Hey, Fuzzy, wake up."  She shook him gently, pushing him away from her at the same time, but it didn't seem to have any effect.  The zipper followed the button in short order and a calloused hand slid down the front of her pants.

            "Come on Kurt!" her voice was louder now, more emphatic as she realized waking him might not be as easy as she'd thought and things were getting more than a little out of hand.  He paused briefly in his attentions to her neck and his hand froze, but then his lips were seeking hers again and she had to turn her head sharply to avoid him.  

            "Wake up Fuzzy, come on.  You've got to wake up and stop this!"  Her voice was rising and she was beginning to panic in earnest as his hand began to fumble at the front of her panties.  She knew how much stronger he was and how little hope she had of physically stopping him from doing anything, but she wasn't willing to call for help.  That would be much too humiliating for both of them.  She pushed sharply against both of his shoulders at once and almost yelled in his face, her voice breaking with a mixture of fear and anger, "Kurt, please stop.  You've got to wake up and stop this!"

            This time she was sure she'd gotten through to him.  He froze as still as one of Bobby's ice sculptures for the space of perhaps ten heartbeats, while his golden eyes blinked groggily down at her in confusion.  Then confusion was rapidly replaced by shock and then even more quickly by horror.

            "Oh mein Gott im Himmel," he gasped as he threw himself away from her, backpedaling rapidly until he fetched up against the wall.  "Kaetzchen?  Was in der Holle?"  His eyes were wide and, she thought, terrified as he stared at her, unblinking, from across the room.  In the darkness they were virtually all that she could see of him.  "Ich bin sehr traurig, Kaetzchen.  Bitte, ich weiss nicht  wie dies geschehen ist..."

            He continued to babble almost non-stop in German, his voice trembling.  _My God I've, like, made a pig's breakfast out of this! she thought angrily.  __Why on earth didn't I just phase away?  I could have woken him up after, or just crept off to bed and he never would have known.  Shit, now what do I do?  She felt like crying, but she was fairly certain that would only make matters worse, especially since it looked like Kurt was dangerously close to tears himself._

            Aloud she said, "Kurt, it's okay.  I'm really sorry, I...I didn't realize you were still asleep and...well..."  She had no idea what to say or how to explain what had just happened, besides which, she didn't think he had heard a word she'd said anyway.  He was still speaking in panicked and rapid fire German, and she couldn't understand any of it besides the frequent repetitions of 'bitte' and 'ich bin traurig'.  She pushed herself awkwardly to her feet, feeling ridiculously self-conscious, and forced herself to cross the room to where he crouched, trembling, against the far wall, his eyes now fixed firmly on the floor.

            "Kurt, really, it's okay," she told him again, kneeling down beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder.  He flinched away from her touch, but she ignored it and reached out with her other hand to lift his chin and force him to look at her.  "Please Fuzzy, listen to me.  Stop this, it was my fault.  I'm so sorry," her voice broke on the last words and she could feel tears beginning to spill down her cheeks.  At least the torrent of German had subsided and Kurt was looking at her again, tears glistening in the corners of his luminous eyes.  

            The horror seemed to have given way to confusion again and his mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before he managed to force any words out in a strangled voice.  "Kaetzchen, how...?  I mean...what?  Ach!  Verflucht!  I don't know what I mean."  He dropped his head into his hands, but looked up again quickly, concern on his face.  "Did I hurt you Kaetzchen?" he asked, almost choking on the words.

            "No Kurt, no!" she answered without hesitation, and she saw some of the tension ease from his face.  "Kurt, you didn't do anything, not really."

            "Danken Sie Gott," he mumbled, letting his head fall again.  "I, I am sorry Kaetzchen but...but could you tell me what happened?  I can't seem to remember anything.  I...I think perhaps that I am still a _little_ drunk."  He looked up at her again and she could tell, even in the dark, that he was blushing a darker shade of blue and she almost laughed before she realized what he was saying.  

            _Drunk?  What the **hell**?_  Her thoughts were interrupted when he continued in a rush.  "That is not an excuse, Kaetzchen.  There is no excuse, but bitte, please I just need to know what happened."

            "Oh God Kurt, I am, like, so sorry," she said again.  "You don't **need an excuse you fuzzy idiot.  If you'll just get that through your head this'll be so much easier.  Do you, like, have fur in your ears or something?"**

            He looked at her, startled, and there was the faint beginning of a smile on his lips before it was replaced by concern and confusion.  He opened his mouth as though to speak again, but she ploughed right over him.

            "Will you just shut up and give me a chance to explain?" she asked, trying very hard to keep her voice light.  "I...I came in a while ago, hoping to...talk...to you about Saturday and, and earlier," she told him.  Her voice was not quite steady, but she figured she was doing well to get it out at all at this point.  She dropped her hand from his shoulder and took one of his oddly shaped hands instead, squeezing it gently and resisting the urge to stroke his fur.  "I, well, I just couldn't sleep without trying to get things cleared up.  Not after how miserable this whole week was, and all over, like, a **stupid misunderstanding."  **

            He was looking at her in total mystification now and she couldn't meet his eyes anymore.  She dropped her gaze instead to where their hands were clasped in her lap, blushing when she realized that her jeans were still completely undone.  "Anyway, like I said," she continued in a rush, "I came in to talk to you but, well, you were, like, asleep.  I almost left then, but, well you...you looked like you were having a nightmare so...so I decided that I should wake you up."  

            She knew that she was flushing scarlet to the roots of her hair now and had to force herself to go on.  "Well, it turns out that, I guess it wasn't really a...nightmare, more of a dream I guess," her voice was fading out in mortification and she forced herself to look back up into his eyes.  He looked at least as embarrassed as she felt, he was obviously beginning to understand where this was going now.  "I thought I'd woken you up because you, like, opened your eyes and looked at me and then, well...Things kinda got out of hand before I realized that you were still asleep so I, like, made sure you were awake this time," her voice had trailed off into a whisper at the end as she looked into his wide golden eyes.  

            "I really am, like, **so sorry Kurt," she told him again.  "I know I, like, sound like a broken record, but can you please forgive me?" **

            He took a deep, shuddering breath and then smiled at her.  It wasn't his light up a room grin, but it was a smile.  "There is nothing to forgive Kaetzchen," he told her softly.  "I am just glad I did not hurt you meine Liebe," and he reached out to gently wipe the tears away where they had pooled and run down her cheeks.  

            "No more misunderstandings, okay Fuzzy?" and before he could so much as move she had thrown herself into his arms, her face buried against the velvet fur of his chest and her arms wrapped firmly around his middle.

            "Nein Kaetzchen," he answered softly, "no more misunderstandings."

            Translations - keep in mind that my college German deserted me years ago and Babelfish and a German dictionary don't really make up for a knowledge of the language.  So the German in here probably reeks, but I'm doing my best.  Anyone out there fluent and want to volunteer to translate?

            Danke - thank you

            mein Freund - my friend (male)

            aber ich nahe verdammt bin - but damn am I close

            Commst du hier - come here

            mein Gott im Himmel - my God in heaven

            was in der Holle? - what in the hell?

            Ich bin sehr traurig - I am so sorry

            Bitte, ich weiss nicht wie dies geschehen ist - please, I don't how this happened


	12. What Dreams May Come

Thanks to everyone who has been reading and REVIEWING - yeah Jaganashi, he was drinking before Kitty showed up (in his defense, he really wasn't expecting her to. He had his night pretty much booked up in advance, figured he'd see her Saturday, but...the best layed plans of mice and men gang aft agley.)  Special thanks to Sharli for consistently bothering to review pretty much every chapter.  Go ahead and e-mail me anyone who actually wants to be notified when updates go up.  

WARNING:

This fic has been rated R for sexual content (underage but consensual), language, violence (upcoming), and just general not kidlet friendliness.  You have been warned.  Don't read if you don't like it or aren't old enough - 'course if you've gotten this far you've already gone through some of that stuff, so...

Oh, and PLEASE REVIEW, reviews give me the warm fuzzies.  Heck, go ahead and tell me it reeks if it makes you feel good - although specifics would be nice, not just general 'you suck'.  Sycophantic praise is also gladly accepted, but **critiques** are what I'm really hoping for - you know this was good/bad and exactly why.  I really am trying to improve my writing, I haven't written fiction in about 12-18 years (can't remember anymore, a looooong time) so I'd love to know what I'm doing right or wrong.  Thanks, hope you enjoy.

DISCLAIMER: (am I supposed to have been doing this every chapter?)  Oh well, I don't own them and if you think I do you need professional help.  Don't really think that Marvel or Kids WB are going to want them back once I'm finished playing with them though, do you?

WHAT DREAMS MAY COME

            They stayed that way for a while, just enjoying the comfort of each other's presence.  _Verdammt__ beer, Kurt thought vaguely, as the world narrowed down to the warm weight of Kitty curled up against his chest and the vaguely _fruity_ smell of her hair. He was actually starting to feel sleepy again and his eyes were drifting shut, when Kitty startled him awake by making a strange choking sound and beginning to shake._

            _Oh Gott, she's crying again_, he thought in a panic.  _What have I done now?_

            Aloud he said, "What is wrong?  Are you all right?"  He couldn't keep the concern from his voice and his arms tightened reflexively around her shoulders.

            She didn't respond other than to emit a few more muffled, choking sounds and he could feel her shaking growing worse.  He was beginning to really worry when one of the 'choking' noises abruptly became a hastily stifled bark of...laughter?  She was _laughing_?  

            "What, exactly, is so hilarious?" he asked, his concern replaced by curiosity.  "I would _love_ to be in on the joke, whatever it is."

            His question seemed to be even more funny than whatever had first set her off, because she stopped even trying to hide her laughter and began to giggle uncontrollably.  This was getting ridiculous.  He liked a joke as well as the next person, but he really couldn't see anything at all amusing either in their situation or in the events of the last week.

            "Okay Schatz, spill it!" he told her emphatically, at the same time using one large hand to tip her face up so she had to look him in the eyes.  He was surprised to see that she was flushed absolutely scarlet and, despite her obvious amusement, she also looked decidedly embarrassed.

            "Oh no, Fuzzy," she told him between fits of giggling.  "I absolutely promise, you do _not_ want to know."

            He was not even remotely sleepy anymore, but there was more than enough alcohol left in his system for him to be feeling slightly petulant.  He _hated being left out of the loop and this was __obviously hilarious._

            "Kaetzchen," he said warningly, "if you do not tell me what you are laughing at, I will be forced to take drastic action."  He let both hands rest lightly on her bare midriff, fingers positioned perfectly to tickle the absolute stuffing out of her if he didn't get what he wanted in short order.

            "You wouldn't," she giggled at him, tensing up a bit when his fingers brushed her sensitive skin.  She looked up into his eyes and apparently found her answer there.  "Yes, you would."  He knew how horribly ticklish she was, and he wasn't afraid to use the information against her.  

            "Okay, but don't try and say you didn't ask for it Fuzzy!"  Her face was, if possible, even redder than before and she had to force her words out between almost debilitating fits of giggles.  As she tried to catch her breath, Kurt tightened his grip on her, determined to give her no chance for escape.

            "Quit stalling, Kaetzchen," he finally ordered her, trying to restrain his own laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation.  His fingers drifted closer to his 'target' as he spoke and she finally took a deep breath and answered him.

            "Well, Fuzzy, I was just, like, wondering...well..." she began to giggle almost uncontrollably again.  He had an uncomfortable feeling of impending doom as she peered up at him from beneath her long, dark lashes.  "Well, like, what _exactly was it you were, like...."  He thought she was about to choke on the words, but she finally forced out, "**dreaming about** when I came in?  'Cause you were, like, **really** worked up there lover boy..."  She buried her face against his chest again, shaking with waves of laughter, and it was his turn to choke and sputter._

            He squeezed his eyes shut in absolute mortification.  He knew that if he were 'normal' he'd be blushing even redder than Kitty was at the moment, difficult as that might be.  As it was, he felt like you could probably scramble an egg on his face, his cheeks were so hot.  

            "Oh.  Mein.  Gott," he moaned into the top of her head.  "I can _not_ **believe you just _said_ that."  He thought it was entirely possible that he might die of embarrassment right then and there.**

            His obvious humiliation seemed to take some of the wind out of her sails and her laughter died down somewhat.  He felt her lean away from him, and assumed it was so she could look up at him again, but he was not _about to open his eyes and look at her.  He took the opportunity to extricate his hands from around her middle and bury his face in them with another moan.  __Gott_, I just can't win here_, he thought.  He really just wanted to sink right through the floor._

            "I'm sorry Kurt, but you did ask, y'know?" her voice was gentle, despite the fact that she was still giggling intermittently.  "I, like, told you you didn't want to know."

            "Yes Kitty, I _do_ remember that," he told her in a rather acid tone of voice.  "That really doesn't make me feel any better about it though."  To make matters worse, being reminded of the dream was bringing it rather vividly to mind again and having Kitty's warm, soft, unmistakably _female body pressed up against him was not helping the situation at all, a fact she was going to notice very shortly if they didn't change position soon.  _

            _Oh Gott_, he thought in an inebriated panic, _please don't let me make this any more embarrassing than it already is!  But neither God nor his body were paying him the slightest bit of attention, and he found himself wishing that he were wearing something **much more substantial than boxer shorts.  He just couldn't win, still drunk enough for his inhibitions to be dangerously close to non-existent and not drunk enough to keep his body from being able to do anything about them.**_

            He was snapped back to reality by a small hand pressed hesitantly against his cheek.  He could actually hear the smile in Kitty's voice when she spoke, "Oh come on Kurt.  It's not _that bad.  I mean, you're, like, a sixteen year old boy.  From what I've picked up about the male of the species it'd probably be a newsworthy event if you _didn't_ have those kind of dreams.  In fact, I think it could be entered into medical records as proof that you're, like, dead."_

            By the time she finished speaking he was peering at her from between his fingers, still undeniably mortified, but somewhat amused by her (rather accurate) take on the situation.  

            _I think that, if I were entirely sober, I might have died from embarrassment by now_.

            She tilted her head to meet his eyes and grinned rather wickedly at him, making his breath catch in his throat, as she added, "I'll let you in on a little secret if you promise not to tell."  She lowered her voice to an exaggerated stage whisper, "girls, like, have those kind of dreams too Fuzzy.  We just don't, like, make a mess when we have them."

            He had dropped his hands as she spoke and he could feel his eyes going wide as he stared at her in shock.  He was absolutely scandalized but he was also grinning from ear to ear.  He just couldn't believe that _Kitty_, prim, proper, **Kitty** of all people, was saying such things.  He found himself wondering, very inappropriately, just what it was that _she_ dreamed about at night.

            "Breathe Fuzzy, breathe," she told him, laughing.  "Come on, don't, like, die of shock on me!"

            "Oh Kaetzchen," he finally managed to choke out, "you are going to be the death of me Liebe!"

            "Weeell," she looked speculatively up at him, and he almost shuddered at the glint of mischief in her eyes, "if I'm going to be the death of you anyway...I can think of a lot better ways to go than sitting here being embarrassed," and with absolutely no warning she rose up on her knees and pressed her lips to his.

            For a fraction of a second he froze, shocked, and then reflex took over and his arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer as he parted his lips and met her seeking tongue with his own.  He couldn't believe how erotic the taste of strawberries had become to him over the past week, and he moaned as the sweetness of her lips seemed to send a jolt of electricity directly to his groin.

            He shivered at the delicious sensation of her soft hands running through his fur, and reached one of his own large hands up to tangle in the soft hairs at the nape of her neck, pulling her even deeper into his kiss, shivering at the little mewl of pleasure she emitted.  Placing his other hand firmly behind her thighs he surged smoothly to his feet.

            She gasped in surprise at the sudden movement, but her only other response was to grasp him firmly around the shoulders and wrap her legs around his waist.  He suppressed a groan at the feeling of her pressed up against the straining bulge in his shorts and buried his face against her neck, suckling at the tender flesh and moaning endearments in thickly accented German.

            After a moment to catch his balance with the added burden of her weight, he crossed the room to where his 'bed' lay, now fully in the shaft of moonlight from the door.  He used one foot to try and spread the blankets out a bit more neatly, then sank carefully to the floor, lowering Kitty to lie on the blankets beneath him and again covering her mouth with his own.  Her legs were still wrapped tightly around his waist and he could feel his breath coming in short gasps as he pressed himself against her groin.  Her hands were now running down his back and shoulders, her nails stroking through his fur and to the skin beneath in a way that made his flesh tingle and shiver and she was moaning and gasping as well.

            Her mouth, her hands, the throbbing heat where he ground himself against her hot center, even the mingled scent of their arousal - the sensations were overwhelming him.  She whimpered against his mouth and ran her hands around to grab his ass and increase the pressure between them.  He almost cried out at the delicious friction as his length rubbed along the rough denim of her jeans.  The thin flannel of his boxers might as well not have been there at all.  

            He had an almost irresistible urge to just rip her jeans off then and there and _take_ her, make her _his_ and he groaned again, shuddering.  He wasn't a virgin - not by a long stretch, not for a long time and not in _any way that mattered - but he had __never felt like this before.  Like all the mysteries of the universe would be revealed if he could just get _closer_ to her, get __inside her._

            _Maybe it's because you've never been with anyone who wanted **you** before Arschloch_, an acid little voice in the back of his mind piped up.  _Someone who wants Kurt Wagner, and not just the 'freak'?  Now that's a unique experience, eh?  And it was true, at sixteen he'd probably had more than his share of hot, sweaty sex, but it wasn't anything to be proud of - he had never before made love to someone he actually cared for or who cared for him.  Gasping, he pulled away from her, breaking their kiss and looking down into her luminous brown eyes, seeing a passion almost twin to his own there._

            "Kaetzchen, are you...are you sure?" his voice was husky and he had to concentrate to make sure the words came out in English.  For a moment that seemed like an eternity she just looked back up at him, motionless and silent, and he could almost _see_ the wheels turning in her head.  He wished he had some idea what she was thinking.  Then, suddenly, she was pulling him back down to her, a suggestive smile spreading on her lips as she whispered, low and warm, "Sure I'm sure Fuzzy."

            As their lips met again Kurt was just sober enough to realize that he was too drunk for this to be a good idea, but still much too drunk to care.  All he really cared about right now was the taste of her, the feel of her hands on him and her warm, lithe body beneath him.  He was lost.

            As he pressed himself back down against her it felt as though his hands were everywhere at once.  Ghosting along her jaw and neck, dragging through her hair, sliding down her sides and then up, up beneath her loose cotton top, calloused hands rough against her tender skin, and she shivered at the touch. Kitty gasped as he reached her breast and almost giggled as she felt him freeze in surprise when he failed to encounter a bra.  Then he was kneading and stroking, rough fingers teasing at her sensitive nipples and she _mewled_ with pleasure, dimly amazed to hear such a sound escape her. She felt as though he were devouring her, his tongue thrusting deeply into her mouth before withdrawing so that he could suck at her lower lip, sharp fangs nipping gently, just short of piercing the skin.  She moaned and pressed herself up against his pulsing length, her hands on his lower back, pulling him to her as her legs tightened around his waist at the same time.  She could feel his heat, even through the fabric of her jeans, and fervently wished that they weren't in the way.

            Suddenly his hand pulled away from her breasts, but before she could begin to protest she felt him fumble awkwardly with the buttons of her shirt.  His breathing was labored and heavily punctuated with gasps and moans as his large fingers worked unsuccessfully at the tiny buttons.  He pulled abruptly away with a low growl of frustration, eyes closed in concentration and fangs bared just inches from her face, his gentle fumbling giving way to a sharp jerk.  The top button of her shirt gave with a small rip and was shortly followed by the rest in quick succession as he repeated the procedure until he could push her shirt back off her shoulders.

            As the first button ripped loose she had frozen, transfixed, and now she lay motionless beneath him, breathing heavily, hands still on his back, watching him as he opened his eyes and shifted his burning gaze to her bare chest.  She felt a brief tremor of self-conscious fear.  What if he didn't like what he saw?  What if he was disappointed?  She knew that she wasn't the chestiest girl around...  She was working her way into a full-blown panic when he growled something that she couldn't understand in German, his voice deep and low and almost hoarse with desire and then, his eyes slipping shut again he lowered himself down her body to nuzzle gently at her breasts.  She almost squeaked in surprise at the feel of his soft fur brushing at her sensitive skin and then it was his hands and lips and tongue and even his teeth teasing and caressing her, while the long strands of his indigo hair brushing her sensitive skin sent shivers of fire through her, adding to the fire already burning in her belly and groin.  It was ecstasy and she wondered dimly in some corner of her brain why Lance's fumblings through her clothes had never even hinted at the possibility of this kind of pleasure.  She let her hands drift to the back of his head, tangling in his silken hair as she moaned and writhed beneath him.  Her only regret was that in shifting he had moved so that she could no longer feel the heat of him pulsing at her entrance and she pressed her hips upward, almost frantic in her need to make some contact, to have something to relieve the delicious ache that was building between her legs.  She wanted, _needed, more but she didn't know what to do or say, how to let him know._

            "Please..." she gasped, pulling gently at his hair.  "Oh God...please...Kurt..."

            He lifted his head to meet her gaze, eyes blazing, burning into her and through her in a way she'd seen only once before and a wicked smile spread slowly across his face.  She'd barely had time to wonder at his look when she felt..._something...warm and firm and velvety soft brush across her belly and then slip lower, to where her jeans still hung open, and lower still, dipping down the front of her panties.  She stiffened and felt her eyes go wide, wondering...and then gasped as it brushed gently through her soft, curly hair and stroked at the tiny, sensitive nub beneath, before slipping past to slide through her heat and wetness._

            His eyes had slipped half shut in concentration and his tongue protruded slightly between his gleaming teeth.  _Oh God...his **tail**_...  Kitty thought in shock and wonder as he increased the pressure and the friction of his movements and she felt her hips twitch and thrust of their own accord.

            He was speaking again, low and urgent, in thickly accented German as he dipped his head to her breasts again.  She couldn't understand a word, but the tone was clear and it made her gasp and flush.

            She was rapidly being reduced to nothing but incoherent moans as the flood of sensation became too much for her.  Her universe was contracting to nothing but the feel of his body, the sound of his voice and the dizzying, aching heat building to a fever pitch in her belly and her crotch.  His tail was doing things to her that she never could have imagined as he continued to tease at her neck and breasts and belly with his mouth and hands.

            Just when she was sure she couldn't take any more, when the heat and the pressure building in wave upon wave threatened to overwhelm her, his tail pressed through and _into_ her wetness, the velvet length sliding along her as the spaded tip pressed gently but oh so firmly into her.  Her hands clenched spasmodically in his fur as she cried out once, his name a sharp staccato sliding down into a series of husky, panting moans as the wave broke over her and her release pulsed through her body like an electric current, lighting up every nerve with ecstasy, and the universe faded to a single point of light behind her tightly shut eyes.

            It seemed like an eternity before the waves of pleasure passed and she became aware of Kurt's weight above her again.  She looked up into his glowing golden eyes as she gasped and quivered in the aftermath of her climax.  He was smiling wolfishly, fangs bared, literally panting with desire and she wondered, in some very small, rational corner of her lust fogged brain exactly where Kurt, sweet, gallant, chivalrous _Kurt, had learned to do such things.  There was no way that this was beginner's luck, and she could not begin to imagine where or when he'd ever had the opportunity to get this kind of experience.  On the other hand, she certainly wasn't going to complain._

            He could feel her climax building as he moved above her, the tension in her body increasing until she almost vibrated like a plucked string.  It was all he could do to restrain himself from ripping off her pants and taking her right then, but he didn't know how gentle he could be or how long he could last and so he forced himself to focus on her pleasure first - he didn't want to disappoint her.  The feel of her bare flesh pressed against him, the salt sweet taste of her on his tongue were driving him wild.  

            He almost lost control when she began to beg.  Oh God he wanted to hear her beg...and plead...and scream.  He wanted to bury himself in her... 

_Nein, not yet... he told himself as he looked down into her eyes, __not...yet, but...next best thing...  He knew the smile he gave her then confused her and he watched her eyes go wide with surprise as he slipped his tail down the front of her pants and began to stroke her, slow and gentle at first, but increasing both the speed and pressure until she was quivering and moaning beneath him._

            [Oh God yes...Kaetzchen...go on Liebe...let go...you know...you want to...Yes...feel me...inside you...mein Liebe...I'm going to...make you... mine...Schatz...take you...over the edge...]  He couldn't stop the flood of barely intelligible words that slipped from him, he was simply grateful that she wouldn't be able to understand anything beyond the endearments.  Once he'd established a rhythm with his tail he bent again to her breasts and belly, suckling and stroking, nipping, even raking her with his nails, drawing light welts up from the pale skin of her abdomen and breasts.  The pressure in his aching cock was almost overpowering and he ground himself against her thigh with a groan.  

            Her moans became more urgent, lost their rhythm, and he knew it wasn't going to be long now.  He stroked his tail once more through her wetness then eased just the small, flexible, spaded tip into her tight opening.  Almost immediately he felt her muscles begin to clench rhythmically around it and as she slipped over the edge and cried out his name he pushed himself up so that he could watch her face as she came.  The sight of her, eyes shut tight, quivering and moaning uncontrollably and aware of nothing but the pleasure he was giving her, was intoxicating.  She was beautiful.

            He slipped his tail from her pants as her eyes fluttered open, still glazed in the aftermath of her climax and he smiled down at her, fangs bared.  He let his mouth drop open, panting heavily as he breathed in the smell of her.  His senses might not be as acute as Logan's, but the scent of her release seemed to him to permeate the room and he drank it in, letting his eyes drop shut for a moment as he fixed it in his mind.

            He didn't know what she saw in his eyes as he opened them and looked down at her again, but she shivered and ran her hands through the fur on his sides.  With an agonized groan he realized he couldn't wait any longer.  He bent to take her mouth, his lips crushing hers, his tongue again thrusting aggressively into her mouth as he slipped a hand down to push at the waistband of her jeans.  She raised her ass to let him slip jeans and panties both over her hips and down her thighs, at which point his prehensile tail and nimble toes took over until she lay beneath him in nothing but the torn remains of her shirt.  

            He was pressing against her center again, with only his boxers between them, the wetness from her orgasm soaking through the thin fabric and driving him wild as he withdrew his tongue from her mouth, nipping at her lips as he did so and stopping himself just short of drawing blood.  Her hips were arching up into him again and he growled, deep in his chest, knowing she was ready, wanting to fill her.  He'd been patient long enough.

            He was wondering how best to relieve himself of this last obstruction between himself and his goal when her hands jerked down to the waistband of his shorts and began to tug and push them over his hips.  He growled again, frustrated, as the damn things hung up on his tail.  

            [God fucking damned tail], he spat with feeling as he shifted himself above her so that he could reach and push them down, but her hands were quicker and he felt her fingers brush softly at the base of his tail, preparatory to grasping it to pull it loose.  He pulled back with a sharp jerk and a string of obscenities in several languages, not even noticing Kitty's gasp of surprise.  His eyes were shut and he was on the verge of hyperventilating, ignoring everything for the moment but the need to maintain _control_.   

            He let his eyes slit open again when he felt slender hands stroke gently across his cheek and heard her voice, low and thick and warm in a way that shot straight to his groin.  

            "Kurt...?"

            "Es ist alle rechts," he gasped.  "Ich bin traurig meine Liebe.  Ach, Scheisse!  It's all right Kaetzchen.  Just, just _don't_ touch my tail, ja?  Bitte, I just need you to, to please _not_ touch it.  Verstehst?"

            Her eyes were wide and confused as she looked up at him, obviously not understanding.  _She doesn't need to understand, he thought with a hint of bitterness, _she just needs to leave it the fuck alone_.  Aloud he asked again, his voice a hoarse moan, "do you understand what I'm asking Kaetzchen?"_

            "But why...?"

            "It doesn't matter why!" he snapped, he hadn't meant to be so harsh.  "Just, please, just...promise me, Kaetzchen?  Bitte?"  He lowered his voice to a whisper and squeezed his eyes shut against the embarrassment of even having to ask this.

            "I understand Kurt," her voice was quiet, breathy, and he felt her hands again, this time pulling him back down to her.  Felt the heat of her body and her bare breasts pressed against his chest, felt her shiver as her nipples brushed through his fur and she tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his lips to hers.

            Oh God, in a heartbeat the world had narrowed again to just the two of them and her lips crushed beneath his, the sweetness of her mouth, her naked body pressed beneath him, her nails raking through the fur of his back to the sensitive skin beneath.  The musky smell of her orgasm was still almost overwhelming, even with the breeze from the open doors.  His eyes snapped open and, bracing himself briefly on one elbow, he reached back, growling, and ripped the tail hole in his shorts wide open, snaked the offending appendage out, and then used it to push them the rest of the way down.

            He pushed himself back above her, gasping with the effort required to take this slow, wanting only to be in her, filling her, making her moan and writhe and scream, feeling her muscles clench around him...but...there was something else he had to do first.  He knew it, could feel it rattling around in the back of his mind but couldn't quite bring it into mental focus.  Whether it was the distraction of her lips working their way down his neck and chest or a simple lack of blood flow to his brain he felt was possibly open to debate, but either way he was drawing a blank.  

            "Kaetzchen?" he gasped and shook his head, trying to clear it, with little discernible success.  "There is...something...something I am, I think... forgetting.  Nein?  Aber ich kann mich nicht errinern, was ist es..."

            She looked up at him blankly for a moment, plainly confused by his lapse into German, then her eyes widened and she looked frantically around them before spotting her pants lying crumpled on the floor near their feet.  She pointed and with an embarrassed smile said the magic words.  "Condom.  In my pocket."

            Part of his mind took a very brief moment to be appropriately shocked and scandalized that she had actually come to his room at some ungodly hour in the morning planning to have sex.  The rest of it was absolutely thrilled that he didn't have to go hunting for his wallet and the condoms he had tucked in the back behind his emergency credit card and a photo of his family.  

            Kurt grabbed the garment with his tail and, transferring it to his hands, dug frantically through the pockets until he found where she had tucked the small foil packet.  Trying to ignore her eyes on him, he ripped it open and then rolled it smoothly into place as he thought nervously, _Gott__ sei danke for a fast metabolism.  I've never been able to get these damn things on **totally** shit-faced._

            He looked back down at her, feeling somewhat awkward now, the momentum dissipating.  _I knew there was something I hated about these things, he thought sourly.  __Actually, there's a lot of things I hate about them, but the awkwardness and loss of momentum top the list._

            Kitty looked at least as uncomfortable and self-conscious as he felt, and he knew he had to concentrate on setting her at ease.  She was still breathing heavily, pale skin flushed with exertion and desire.  He took in the stiff peaks of her rosy nipples and the glistening moisture in the soft, curly thatch at her groin and inhaled deeply the scent of her arousal.  _Uncomfortable and self-conscious, but definitely still horny, and Gott, so beautiful._

            She felt distinctly awkward watching as Kurt rolled the condom down over his straining erection - partly because of what he was doing, but largely because it was the first time she had ever actually seen an erection, or a penis for that matter.  She wasn't sure what exactly she had been expecting, but it did seem larger than she would have guessed, especially considering where it was supposed to fit.  She could see it throbbing with his heartbeat and wanted desperately to reach out and touch it, to feel it pulse in her hand, but couldn't bring herself to do it.  She had been expecting it to be blue, like the rest of him, but it was actually a dark purple, she supposed because of the bloodflow, and she was very surprised to note that he actually had no pubic hair.  She shouldn't have been, she supposed, he didn't have facial or underarm hair either - he was always teasing the other guys when they cut themselves shaving.

            It took only a moment for him to finish with the condom, and then he was looking down at her, obviously feeling just as awkward as she was.  She wasn't sure what to do, how to start again, but then he smiled at her, fangs glinting and eyes smoldering in a way that sent an answering warmth flaring through her abdomen and groin.  Still kneeling above her he leaned slowly over her and pressed his lips to hers, more gently than last time, parting her lips softly with his tongue, his hands rising to caress her breasts, stroke her belly and sides.  She gasped into his mouth and buried her hands in the fur on his back, pulling him down to her, wanting to feel the velvet of him rub against her skin again.  With an answering moan he lowered himself to lay along her body, pressing her thighs apart with his knees, his tail playing along her legs, gently encouraging her to spread them for him.

            She heard his voice again, murmurring this time.  Low and warm, his accent thick.  Though she had no idea what he was saying, almost _anything_ he said in that tone would have made her burn.  It could have been a grocery list or a prayer, all she knew was that she never wanted him to stop.

            She could feel pressure building again in her belly and crotch, could feel each beat of her heart send a wave of heat radiating through her sex.  She wanted this...she did...  But as he lowered himself to her, as she felt the throb and pulse of him against her, she felt a sharp thrill of fear.  Everything so far had been wonderful, had been more than she had ever imagined, but she _knew that this would **hurt.  Everyone said it hurt.  There would be blood and pain and...and she froze, shivering, with a small whimper of fear as he moaned into her mouth and began to press into her.  Every muscle in her body tensed as she closed her eyes tight, held her breath and waited for the pain.**_

            He had waited too long and the need of her had become an almost physical pain.  he tried to control himself, to go slow...be gentle...when all he could think about was gettin...deep inside her...  He groaned into her mouth as he perssed himself against her hot, tight entrance and felt her tense beneath him in a way that was obviously not inspired by passion, but he was almost beyond caring, beyond any further capacity for patience or generosity.

            "Ach, Kaetzchen, ich will dich," he gasped as he pressed his cheek to hers and murmurred husky endearments and encouragement into her ear as he prepared to enter her and almost missed the frightened whimper that escaped her as he began to move.  Almost...but not quite, and he froze, gasping with the effort it took him.

            Her hands were still on his sides, digging tensely into his fur.  Her eyes were closed and even so far gone in lust he could see the fear on her face.

            "Was ist los...meine Liebling?  Es ist...alle rechts, relax Schatz," he nuzzled into her neck as he spoke, nipping her lightly to emphasize his words.

            "I'm sorry Kurt," she answered in a small, breathy voice.  "I'm sorry, please...please I, I want this...I want you..."

            And she did, he knew she did.  He could feel in her, smell it on her.  But she was also terrified.  He could see the tears glistening in the corners of her eyes.  Why? 

            "Kaetzchen," her name came out a gasp as he buried his face in the hollow of her neck.  "Schatz, I will..._not hurt you...Liebe.  Please, es ist, __it is okay.  Why, why are you...afraid Schatz?"_

            He looked at her again, stroked her cheek, ran his hand down to her breast and felt her body respond to his touch, but still saw the fear and uncertainty in her eyes.  He felt a lead weight settle in the pit of his stomach.

            "Kaetzchen?  You have...you're not..." he didn't want to say it.  Didn't want it to be true.  She'd dated _Lance Alvers for months for Christ's sake!  She couldn't be...could she?  Of course she wasn't a virgin._

            He looked down at the tears still glinting in her eyes.

            "You've never done this before, have you?"  His voice was an agonized moan and he knew the answer even before she shook her head slightly, her face flushed with embarrassment.

            This had just become wrong in so many more ways.  As if it hadn't already been bad enough that he was having sex with his best friend.  He did _not_ need taking her virginity on his conscience.  _What the hell happened to 'it would be like doing your sister' you fucking pervert!_

            There had been a point somewhere in the past where this information would have changed everything, would have stopped him dead in his tracks, even if he'd been drunk as a lord.  Now...now he had to at least give her an out, or try to.  But he didn't know what he'd do if she tried to take it, didn't know if he could actually let her go.  He could feel every muscle quivering with the effort of holding himself in check.  His jaw was so tight that his teeth were grinding and he had to force himself to pull away from her, just far enough that some random movement on her part wouldn't send him flying past the point of no return.  He closed his eyes and breathed deep, trying to steady himself.  _Oh, BAD idea!  The smell of her was one of the things that was driving him over the edge._

            He tried to keep his voice even, but it came out almost a growl, "Kaetzchen, you don't...have to..."  He couldn't get out all the words, couldn't make them make sense.  "It is...all right...we can...I mean, we don't..."  He groaned and pressed his face to her neck again.  He couldn't look her in the eyes and try to say this.  _Ach, I can't take this!  He wanted to howl.  He wanted to be anywhere else, doing anything but having, trying to have, this...conversation...in this position, but he wanted her, needed her, so bad now that he could hardly breath._

            "Kurt..." her voice was very low and quiet, but it was steady and still rough with desire.  "Please, I do...I want this...I'm scared but...please, please...don't stop." her voice trailed away in a whisper.

            "Ach, Liebling," he moaned into her neck before raising up to meet her eyes, trying to keep his relief from showing.  "You are sure?" he asked, one last time.

            "There was only the slightest of hesitations before she nodded, once, and drew him down again, her lips already parting for him.

NOTE:  figure if they don't **actually do the dirty right here on the page I can still call this R - sound good?  Hope so.  Hey, now that we've gotten that over with, maybe I can move on to the plot, ya think?  I hope.  We'll see if I can manage that plot stuff.**

Between actually having to work out plot details now, rather than just fluff, combined with my kids being back in school (that's more work in my world, not less), updates are probably going to be even slower.  I do have to have some RL after all.  Will update as often as I can get something readable finished.  Might just do away w/chapter titles (kinda dorky anyway) and post much shorter chapters just to get something up.  We'll see.

TRANSLATIONS

            Schatz - treasure, used to mean darling

            Liebling - darling, love

            Verdammt - damned

            Arschloch - asshole      

            es ist alle rechts - it's all right (I think)

            verstehst? - understand?

            aber ich kann mich nicht errinern, was ist es - but I can't remember what            it is (again, I think)

            ich will dich - I want you

            was ist los - what's wrong


	13. The Morning After the Night Before

Still don't own them - if you were under any misapprehension to the contrary, please seek professional help. 

Another veeeery long chapter.  Sorry, that's the way I write.  I thought of breaking it up more, but it didn't flow the same to me.  For the record, I am cruel and vicious to those I love (at least when I know I can play god and make it all better in the end) **and** I suck at titles (in case you hadn't noticed yet).

Thanks to everyone who's reviewing and **please keep it up!!!**  This is in large part an exercise for me and I can't improve if I don't know where I'm screwing up or just not quite hitting the mark, so please feel free to roast me (gently).  Constructive criticism is **always welcome.  **

Translations (unfortunately of the half-assed variety) at end, followed by some comments to individual reviewers.

THE MORNING AFTER THE NIGHT BEFORE

            The first thing Kurt was aware of as he drifted back towards consciousness was that he _hurt_.  He really wished he could just stay unconscious and ignore the various protests from his abused and battered body.  Muscles he hadn't even realized he had were aching and burning.  He felt distinctly as though someone had spent a few hours working him over with a stick.

            _Oh, wait_... a snippet of memory drifted to him through the pounding in his head.  Someone _had_ been working him over.  Logan.  Last night.  The Danger Room.

            He groaned quietly and shifted one arm to protect his aching head from the light that seemed to he penetrating directly to his brain, even through his tightly closed eyelids.  More bits of memory began to slowly piece themselves together and he remembered not just the Danger Room, but Logan's room after.  He groaned again, more loudly this time.  No wonder he felt like his head was stuffed full of Tabby's little 'booms'.  He didn't remember exactly how much he'd drunk last night, but he was pretty certain, from the way he felt combined with the simple fact that he _couldn't_ remember, that it had been waaay too much.

            _Mein__ Gott I'm going to suffer for that today.  I **hate hangovers.**_

            He was beginning to have trouble ignoring the insistent pressure in his bladder, but really didn't want to aggravate his head by opening his eyes, or the rest of his body by moving.

            _The amazing mutant ability to pee with uncanny accuracy over great distance would be very useful right about now_, he thought without much humor.  _Gott_, I **really hate hangovers!**__

            He could almost bring himself to hate Logan as well, as the source of this particular hangover, if it weren't for the fact that the man's rather extreme tactics seemed to have worked.  He had a vague recollection of a _very interesting, though somewhat disturbing, dream involving Kitty, but he could not recall one nightmare.  Since there was no way in hell he was likely to forget one of those, three sheets to the wind or not, that meant that, for the first time since Saturday, he had slept the night through without a guided tour of hell.  _

            _Too bad letting __Logan__ beat the shit out of me and then pour me into bed half-smashed isn't an option for a nightly routine, because I think the hangover and general abuse might actually be a pretty fair trade._

            He lay motionless, his eyes shut tight against the mid-morning glare, trying desperately to ignore the jack-hammer working on his brain, until he finally had to concede that his bladder was winning the stand-off.

            As he began to contemplate actually getting up and staggering to the bathroom, he was becoming vaguely aware of something else working its way past his assorted aches and into his consciousness.  There was a warm weight draped limply over his side and across his chest and something equally warm and..._soft_...pressed firmly against his back.  With a growing feeling of alarm, he realized that his tail was wrapped loosely around an appendage that most certainly _didn't_ belong to him and the soft tickle at his neck that he had only just noticed was the gentle exhalation of warm breath ruffling his fur.

            He froze, full bladder, pounding head and aching body completely forgotten for the moment, as his memory of the night before came flooding back in vivid, technicolor detail.  "Oh sheisse," he groaned, eyes wide in shock, "es war nicht ein Traum."  He felt Kitty stir sleepily behind him at his words, her hand drifting lower to run over the fur on his belly while her legs shifted to twine themselves with his.  He was becoming acutely conscious of the way her bare breasts were pressing into his back, soft and warm and oh so...  

            "Oh Gott, ich bin tot.  Logan, or Scott or the Professor or _someone_ is going to kill me.  Maybe I should just save them all the trouble and die of shame right now, ja?  Much easier on all concerned that way ich denke."

            He hadn't even realized he'd spoken aloud until a groggy voice behind him snapped him back to the here and now.  "What was that Fuzzy?  I couldn't hear you," Kitty mumbled behind him.  She punctuated her words with a soft kiss to the nape of his neck that set alarm bells jangling through his entire nervous system.

            "Uh, Kaetzchen?"  He had to concentrate to keep his voice from squeaking.

            "Hmmm Fuzzy?"  Her voice was warm and low and her breath on his neck made every hair stand on end.  Unfortunately, her attentions elsewhere were making something else stand on end and considering the state of his bladder that was amazingly uncomfortable, as well as mildly disturbing under the circumstances.

            Suppressing a groan of mixed pain and embarrassment, Kurt rolled quickly away from her and onto his stomach.  Resting his cheek on his crossed forearms, he looked at her hesitantly, features warring between confusion, embarrassment and desire.  He tried desperately to suppress the last, but the memory of what they had done was still too vivid in his fuddled mind, and she looked so beautiful and so...vulnerable...lying there, half asleep, her face flushed and the blanket pulled just above her breasts.

            He cleared his throat nervously, "did we really...?"  He _knew they had, couldn't get it out of his mind now that the memory had rushed back, but for some reason he felt an irrational need for independent confirmation of the fact._

            "Umhmmm..."  The slow smile that accompanied her response sent a shiver right down to his tail tip.  Something he was sure she couldn't help but notice as his tail was still wrapped around what he had concluded must be her left thigh.  Her only response was to reach out and ruffle her fingers through his tousled hair and then trail them slowly down his back, letting her nails rake through his fur to the skin beneath.  His eyes slipped half shut and it was only with effort that he suppressed a moan of pleasure.  It was really all he could do to keep from purring like a cat. _How is it that, in all this time, I've never noticed how **beautiful** she is?_

            As her fingers continued down his spine though, he began to tense and the purr died in his chest.  She stopped before he could say anything, inches short of the base of his tail, just letting her hand rest in the small of his back, fingers idly stroking through his fur.

            He opened his eyes to find her staring intently at him, a thoughtful look in her still sleepy blue eyes.

            "Um, Kurt..."

            "Kaetzchen..."

            They spoke at once and then both stopped, each waiting for the other to continue.

            He cleared his throat nervously and tried to keep his voice steady as he met her gaze.  "We need to talk, Schatz..." he finally managed.  She nodded solemnly at this, a shadow of concern crossing her face as he continued.  "But, well..." he wrinkled his nose slightly and grimaced in both irritation and embarrassment, "well...first I have _got to use the facilities."_

            She let out a startled snort of amusement, hers eyes sparkling, at this obviously unexpected statement.  

            "Hey, I drank a _lot_ of beer last night!" he laughed back at her, "that stuff goes right through you."

            "That is _definitely_ one of the things we need to talk about Fuzzy."  She was grinning broadly at him now.

            "Why?  Are you going to turn me in to Ororo or the Prof.?" he asked, raising one eyebrow in mock challenge.

            "I just might," she responded with as much dignity as she could muster while lying naked on his floor wearing nothing but a blanket.

            "I hate to suggest it Kaetzchen, but your moral authority on the issue might be somewhat compromised under the circumstances."  His other eyebrow followed the first and he waggled them at her with a mock leer.

            She had been having trouble keeping a straight face before, but that was the last straw.  She broke down in peals of breathless laughter.

            "Oh, I do love you Fuzzy Elf," she managed to gasp, and he found himself grinning stupidly back at her, the tension he had felt only moments before draining away with her laughter.  This was not an ideal situation by any stretch of the imagination, but perhaps it wasn't quite as bad as he had first feared.

            Unfortunately, his new position was putting almost excruciating pressure on his protesting bladder and he had reached the conclusion that he was going to embarrass himself shortly if he didn't do something about it.

            He craned his neck to scan the room, hoping to catch site of his abandoned clothes from last night.  Unfortunately, all he spotted were his boxers, clearly in no condition to be worn again - ever - and a scatter of distinctly feminine clothes.  He winced when he caught sight of Kitty's shirt, remembering exactly what he'd done to it the night before.  It appeared he had two options, wrap himself in the blanket for the trip across the room, leaving Kitty totally exposed, or say to hell with it and just go as is.  At least, he thought with some relief, his change of position and her laughter had helped _reduce_ the potential embarrassment factor involved in walking across the room naked.

            "Fair warning Kaetzchen," he told her with an attempt at a grin.  "I have _got_ to go and my pants appear to be MIA."

            At this announcement she turned the tables on him, raising one eyebrow in her own mock leer.  "Don't mind me," she told him in a very good effort at a seductive purr.  "I'll be right here when you get back."

            He could feel himself blushing to the roots of his hair under her unblinking scrutiny.  She obviously had no intention of averting her gaze.  Closing his eyes briefly, he reminded himself that it really was a bit late for modesty.  Sighing in resignation, he shoved the blanket back, shivering at the shock of the cool spring air after the warmth of the covers and her flesh.  He pushed himself briskly to his feet and tried to ignore her eyes on him as he made his way to the bathroom - an effort she promptly foiled.

            "Nice ass, Fuzzy, but I'm _really looking forward to the return trip!"  Her voice was low and pitched just loud enough to carry across the room to him.  He snorted in surprise and almost tripped over his own feet at the unexpected comment.  He couldn't stop himself from looking reflexively back at her over his shoulder, and when he saw her cover her mouth, apparently in shock at her own words, and blush in embarrassment, he quickly suppressed his own grin._

            The moment after he staggered through the bathroom door and closed it behind him, he collapsed against the vanity, laughing silently but so hard that he could barely stand.  She was obviously trying very hard to behave however she thought she should under the circumstances, but she was just as obviously as uncertain as he was.  _Oh Gott, she is going to be the death of me.  But what a way to go!_

            Unfortunately, the trip across the room combined with his laughter had served to bring his headache crashing back down on him with a vengeance.  He managed to stop laughing long enough to stagger to the commode and abandoned himself to the sheer, mindless relief of emptying his bladder.

            He briefly considered stepping into the shower to try and let the hot water work out some of the aches Logan had so kindly left him with, but quickly abandoned the thought.  He couldn't leave Kitty out there that long.  Instead, he opened up the cold water spigot and stuffed his head under the icy flow.  He stifled a shout of shock as the frigid water cascaded over his head and neck and then put his mouth to the faucet and drank until his bladder was again protesting.

            _Dehydration.__  Big, bad side-effect of getting drunk that I **don't** need._

            He finally pulled his head out of the sink and shook like a dog, ignoring both the protests from his head and the mess he made as water flew around the bathroom.  He needed food and coffee, desperately and not necessarily in that order, but first he needed to go back to his room and face the enormity of the fact that last night, while roaring drunk, he had taken his best friend's virginity.  The fact that she had pretty much offered it up on a silver platter probably had to be addressed as well, but when all was said and done there was no doubt in his mind that fault lay squarely at his feet.  He was not, as a rule, prone to queasiness when hung over, but under the circumstances he wasn't really surprised by the violent churning in his gut.

            The moment the bathroom door closed behind Kurt, Kitty buried her face in her hands, torn between laughter at the look of shock on his face and mortification at what she'd actually said to him.  _Oh. My. God. I **can't** believe I **said** that.  'Course, neither can he,_ and laughter won out, although that was in large part the result of her subconscious drive for emotional self-preservation.  She could laugh or she could cry, and crying would just send her sliding right down the proverbial 'slippery slope.'  She had never really thought past last night, never considered the possible awkwardness of 'the morning after,' and damn was it ever awkward.  But she'd gotten herself into this with her eyes open and she'd be damned if she was going to be embarrassed or ashamed, especially not in front of Kurt.  Unfortunately he seemed to be taking care of that department for the both of them.

            She tried not to think of that.  She didn't really know what kind of reaction she had expected from him this morning, but surprise, discomfort and shame would not have been on her short list had she bothered to consider the prospect.  She could feel tears beginning to prick at the corners of her eyes as she remembered the look on his face when he had rolled over to face her - awkward, embarrassed and confused - and she wondered just how drunk he had been the night before.  Had he really not remembered?  _Not going to think about this now.  Not gonna, just...**please don't let it have been a huge mistake.**_

            She could hear the toilet flush and then the sound of running water.  He would probably be back soon and he was right, they did need to talk.  She'd feel a lot more comfortable doing that with some clothes on.  She reached out to snag her underwear and jeans and then looked despairingly at the remains of her shirt.  There was simply no way it was wearable, Kurt had absolutely shredded it in his eagerness to get it off last night and she flushed with the memory.  Whatever he might be thinking this morning, he'd been at least as eager as she had  - and even if he had been drinking last night he hadn't been earlier, or on Saturday, so his reactions couldn't have _all_ been just the beer talking.

            She abandoned those thoughts along with the warmth of the blanket and quickly slipped into her panties and jeans and then, folding her arms across her bare breasts, cast another quick glance around the room.  There was a duffle on the floor next to the closet, but she didn't really want to go pawing through his stuff.  Then she spotted the white t-shirt crumpled on the floor halfway between the 'bed' and the bathroom - that would do.  She was shivering from the chill spring breeze coming in at the open doors and quickly darted over to snatch up the shirt and pull it over her head then just as quickly turned to close the doors against the early spring chill.

Warmer now, and feeling much less awkward and vulnerable, she settled down with her back to the wall and waited nervously for Kurt to return.

            The cold water, both in him and on him, had helped somewhat with his headache.  Now Kurt stood, leaning heavily on the vanity and concentrating on his breathing, willing the nausea that was threatening to overwhelm him to subside.  It was a long moment before he felt comfortable enough to move, but finally he bent carefully to retrieve his pants from where he must have abandoned them the night before and slipped into them.  Kitty may have joked about looking forward to his 'return trip', but he was certain she wasn't quite as comfortable with their situation as she was trying to pretend and he sure as hell knew he wasn't comfortable with walking out there again stark naked if there was any alternative.  

            He scrubbed a towel over his face and neck and then, tossing it into a corner, ran his hands through his damp, disheveled hair.  He took one more deep breath and, steeling himself, pulled the door open and stepped back out into his room.  To his relief he found Kitty fully clothed, in her jeans and his shirt, and sitting propped against the wall across the room.  Her earlier bravado had worn off and now she just looked uncertain and perhaps a trifle frightened as she watched him solemnly.  She seemed so small and fragile and lovely sitting there, cheeks rosy and hair mussed, and virtually lost in the folds of his shirt.

            Looking at her, Kurt realized with a shock how amazingly insensitive and callous he had been when he first woke up.  Whatever she had expected from him this morning, he was certain that it had not included the confusion or embarrassment he'd displayed.  She was his best friend and he had thought only of himself - his confusion, guilt and worry.  What of her?  She'd given him a gift last night.  Perhaps he hadn't asked for it, might even have refused it under different circumstances.  But the fact remained that he hadn't refused, he'd accepted something precious and irreplaceable and then, this morning, he had barely stopped short of running from her.  What was she thinking, feeling, now?  With a sharp, cold pain in his chest he realized that he hoped, desperately, that, whatever she _was feeling, it wasn't regret.  _

            Whether Logan, or anyone else, was going to want his pelt for a rug, whether he could live with the guilt of what he'd done or the fact that he wanted, very much, to do it again, were all considerations for another place and time.  Right now, he needed to make this right with her, whatever it took.  He plastered a warm smile on his face, hoping that it made it to his eyes, that his fear didn't show, and crossed the room to drop lightly into a crouch at her side.  

            "Ich liebe dich, Kaetzchen," he told her, the warmth of his voice belying the chill of fear in his heart as he reached out to gently cup her cheek in one large hand.  It wasn't what he'd meant to say, it had just slipped out and now it was hanging there between them, beyond recall.  Time stood still for an endless moment as her eyes filled with tears and he could hear nothing but the beating of his heart and words, like a prayer, drifting through his mind.  _Please don't let her regret it.  Please don't let her regret it.  Please..._  He was beginning to think his heart might stutter and stop altogether and then, with a muffled cry she threw herself into his arms.  "Oh Kurt, I love you too."

            "You know, Schatz, this seems remarkably familiar," he commented with a smile as he sat, his back to the wall and a warm armful of Katherine Pryde held comfortably against his still bare chest.

            "You know Fuzzy, I think you're right."  She burrowed her cheek into the velvety warmth of his fur and tightened her arms around his waist.  "I've got some serious deja vu goin' on here."

            She tilted her head back to smile at him and he felt his heart lurch and skip a beat.  Her blue eyes were dancing with humor and, amazingly, love, and without any conscious thought he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers.  It wasn't a passionate kiss, though God knows he still wanted her, just a feather soft brush of his lips - more a way of assuring himself that this was real and she was there, in his arms.  She sighed and settled more comfortably against him and he wondered, briefly, why he'd never thought of her romantically before, and realized that it was because he had been so certain that she could never think of him that way, not after how terrified she had been of him at first.  She had been safe to joke and flirt with, to become close to, because he had _known they would never be more than friends._

            _So much for preconceived notions_, he thought with a smile.  They certainly still needed to talk, but it was a conversation he thought he could handle at this point.  Though there was some part of him that wondered still when she would come to her senses, truly realize what she had done, and hate him for it.  He clenched his eyes shut tight, fighting the surge of panic that thought released.

            _Nein, not Kaetzchen.__  She won't do that.  She had time, she thought about this and she wouldn't be here if she didn't **want** to be.  Wouldn't do **this if she didn't mean it.  He knew that was true, knew beyond doubting, yet still there was a small, dark corner of his soul that wouldn't, couldn't, accept that **__anyone could feel more than friendship, pity or a twisted lust for some_thing_ that looked like him._

            _Du__ bist ein Tier, Eine Missgeburt.__  Niemand  normal wirdst du  immer wollen..._

            His eyes snapped open and his heart raced in absolute panic as the Voice slithered along the ragged edges of his consciousness, scrabbling and clawing in the dark and threatening to pull him under.

            "Nein.  Nein!  Es ist nicht wahr.  Ich bin nicht ein Tier.!"  He didn't feel himself shaking, didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Kitty's worried voice cut through the darkness like a knife.

            "Kurt?  Fuzzy, what's wrong?"

            He forced himself to focus on her voice, the warm weight of her in his arms, the concern in her eyes, anything but the panic clutching at him and the darkness closing in.  **These were real, **these** were true - not the acid voice mumbling in the darkness.  He felt his heart begin to slow as the panic receded and was replaced by embarrassment and shame.**

            "I'm sorry Kaetzchen," he whispered.  He buried his face in the loose tangle of her hair, unable to meet her eyes and the question he knew he'd see there.  _Gott__, this may have been a bad week, but that's no excuse for losing it in front of someone, anyone, especially not Kitty and not now.  Things were just starting to feel comfortable and right and he'd just blown it all to hell.  He almost held his breath, waiting for her response._

            "Don't be sorry Kurt.  Just, tell me what's wrong, please?

            "I, I'm sorry Liebe, but please, please don't ask me that.  Bitte?  Not now?  It, it doesn't have anything to do with you, or...this...  Not really."  He paused, catching his breath against the words that were tumbling out in a desperate rush.  Forcing himself to meet her eyes, he continued, "It was just a...a bad memory, ja?  Don't worry Schatz.  It's gone now."  And it was, mercifully.  It was virtually impossible for his uncertainty and paranoia to hold up against the honest concern and love in her eyes.  He felt the tension drain from him as she reached up to stroke his cheek, her fingers trailing through his fur.  He could still see the question in her eyes, but he _couldn't_ give her any more answer than that.  Not now, maybe never.  As she opened her mouth to ask it he silenced her the quickest way he could.  Leaning down he caught her mouth with his.  Taking full advantage of her already parted lips he dipped his tongue into the warm sanctuary of her mouth.  After an initial moment of surprise she responded with all the enthusiasm he could have hoped for, almost fighting him for control, her own tongue darting out to taste him.  He shifted his arms to hold her more tightly to him, one hand drifting up to tangle in her hair as he felt her tongue run tentatively along his lips and then dart out to brush along his teeth.  He gasped, but didn't pull away.  He'd warned her once about the fangs, he'd trust her to remember.

            He forced himself to maintain control, though it was a struggle to keep his hands and that verdammt tail from straying onto dangerous ground.  They didn't need a repeat of last night.  Not now anyway, no matter how much he might wish otherwise.

            It was becoming painfully obvious though that Kitty wasn't thinking in those terms, as her hands ran tantalizingly across his chest and back and shoulders, wherever she could reach.  He pulled away with a gasp, before things got too heated, and met her eyes with a much more natural smile.

            "You know, Kurt, I'm not so far gone on you that I can't tell an attempt to change the subject when I see it."  There was no anger in her words, only humor, and she smiled indulgently at him, like he was a small child who only thought he was getting away with something.

            "Did it work?"  He almost laughed as she punched him playfully in the chest.  "I'll take that as a 'yes' then?"

            "For now, Fuzzy."  Her eyes became serious as she looked at him.  "But you do know that you can talk to me about anything, don't you?"

            He didn't know how to answer that.  She wanted his confidences.  Lord knows he'd heard enough of hers.  How could he tell her that there were things, too many of them, that he simply wouldn't, couldn't, tell her?  It wasn't, he didn't _think, that he didn't trust her with them.  It was that he simply couldn't bear the thought of her knowing of such _ugliness_.  He couldn't burden her with that.  He took a deep breath and then, with a silent prayer, took the coward's way out._

            "So Liebe," he grinned broadly at her.  "Do you often sneak into boys' rooms and seduce them in the night?"

            The way her face fell and...crumpled...was not _quite_ what he had been expecting.  "How could you...How **dare you..." she was almost spluttering with rage and he could feel her tensing in his lap as her hands pushed spasmodically at his chest.  He was on the thin edge of being physically assaulted, he realized with a jolt.  **

            _Talk about a poor choice for humor to lighten the mood_.

            "Liebe, das tut mir Leid.  I'm sorry.  That was...it was uncalled for.  Rude.  I didn't mean it how it sounded, truly.  I am so, so sorry."  He could feel her beginning to relax as his panicked flow of words drowned out her now muffled protests.

            "I'm sorry Schatz," he said again.  "It was _more than obvious that you've never done anything of the sort.  It was a stupid, stupid thing to joke about."_

            "Yes, it was Kurt."  He saw the tears in her eyes and realized, too late, that he should have known that it would hurt her.  "It was a really stupid joke."

            He let his tail tighten around her waist in what he hoped was a comforting grip as he stroked her unkempt hair with one hand and her back with the other.  Her hands were still pushing lightly at his chest, protesting his attempts to pull her to him again.

            "You must think I'm...I'm..."

            "Nein Kaetzchen.  Nein.  I am so sorry, Liebe."

            "I would never...with just..._anyone..."_

            "Oh Gott Kitty.  I know that.  Don't you think I know?  After last night, how could I not?"  His gut clenched in discomfort as they staggered through this verbal mine-field.  Every word had the potential to blow up in their faces now.

            "Schatz.  Remember what we promised yesterday?"  He looked her in the eye, willing her to see all the love and respect he had for her.  She nodded slowly. 

            "No more misunderstandings," she almost whispered.

            "Ja, no more misunderstandings," he echoed.  "Please, Kitty, understand that I didn't mean that.  I would _never_ think that of you.  But," he paused for breath.  "Understand too that, well, that I wish you had _told _me."  He saw the confusion in her eyes.

            "Told you what Kurt?" she asked, not _quite defensively._

            "That it was," he looked awkwardly at his hands, her hands, the floor, anything but her eyes, "that it was your...first time Liebe.  You deserved better than a drunken tumble on the floor for your first time and...well...honestly Kitty?  I deserved to know what...what I was...doing."  He still couldn't meet her eyes.  This was perhaps the most awkward conversation he could ever remember being a party to.

            "Oh, believe me Fuzzy, you knew _exactly_ what you were doing!  There's no doubt on that point."  He glanced up at her words, not sure if he was grateful or annoyed at her attempt to lighten the mood.  Her face was flushing almost scarlet, and he tried to ignore the obvious question in her eyes.  But then, "You know, I'm more than a _little curious about just where and when you learned...that...uh, stuff?"_

            _Oh.  Mein.  Gott.  Land mines everywhere_.

            "Um, gentlemen never tell?" he tried with a look of wide-eyed innocence.

            "Kurt, gentlemen don't do the things you did last night!"  He would have worried more if she hadn't been laughing as she said it, but it still hurt to hear.  

            _Hurts to hear the truth?_  He maintained his smile through force of will, but couldn't maintain eye contact.  

            _No, they don't meine Liebe.  You're so right, they don't_.

            She had to be able to see his blush, even through the fur.  _I must be purple by now_, he thought with something close to despair.  _How did things go this far down hill again?_

            Her laughter died and he looked up again, at a gentle touch on his cheek, to see she had sobered abruptly.

            "Kurt?"  Her voice was hesitant, worried.  "You didn't really think I'd...well...that...I mean...?"  She looked both disappointed and disturbed as her voice trailed away uncertainly and her luminous blue eyes locked with his.

            "Ach, Kitty.  I...I don't know what I thought, if I ever did, really.  It was...was _your business, what you did or didn't do with Lance and...well...  You seemed to love him, or to think you did, and...there were times, even I admit, when...well, he seemed to genuinely...care...for you."  He was intensely uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken.  __When was I **last comfortable with this conversation at all, though?  "I suppose I just...well...I just assumed you had been...intimate...  You were together so long and..."  He couldn't meet her eyes, yet again, as his voice trailed away into embarrassed silence.  He was more than a little ashamed to realize just what he had assumed.**_

            "It's all right Kurt."  Her voice was soft and tentative.  "I suppose, really, it was kind of a...reasonable...assumption.  To be honest, the only reason I managed to, like, put him off so long was because he, like, lived in terror of what Mr. Logan might do to him if he found out."

            When he finally forced himself to meet her eyes, she favored him with a rather embarrassed smile.  "It's obviously not like I'm incapable of jumping into bed with someone after all.  Look at what I just did,"  she rambled, almost incoherently.   Her smile faded and she looked close to tears.

            _Please don't let her regret it.  Please...,_ the litany sprang up immediately at the lost and sorrowful look in her eyes.  _Don't make her regret it, Arschloch_.

            "I can't...can't really give you any good excuse Kurt.  Other than...other than I..."

            "Don't Kaetzchen.  You don't have to.  It's all right."  He poured all the conviction he could muster into those words.

            "No.  No, it's _not_ all right!"  Her voice had lost its hesitancy, though she still looked cast adrift.  "It's not all right.  I did sneak into your room and seduce you.  You may have meant it as a joke, but call a spade a spade!  I even knew you were drunk before I started anything.  God help me, you told me flat out.  I can at least tell you why, or try to..."

            She had been in his lap still, but holding herself away from him.  Now she shifted slightly and slid onto the floor next to him.  Sitting cross-legged she folded her hands in her lap and stared at them for a moment before looking up at him.  With a very somber look she took a deep breath and began in a steady voice...

            "When I first came here Kurt, I was afraid.  Afraid of what I was and what I could do.  What I couldn't help doing.  I didn't _want to be different, didn't want to leave my family.  I just wanted everything to go back to the way it had been.  I'm not proud of that now, but it's true."  She paused briefly, gathering courage to go on, and it was all he could do to neither interrupt nor wince in anticipated pain at what he knew was coming._

            "When I first met you, Kurt, I was absolutely terrified."

            _I remember Kitty.  I just wish I could forget_.  He forced himself to breath, stay calm, give her the hearing she needed.  He knew the courage this was taking.

            "The Prof., well, he tried to prepare me.  So did Jean.  But I, well, I didn't really take them seriously.  I was too busy worrying about me to pay attention to what they said.  I don't know what I thought, except...well...I was sure it couldn't be as...as..."

            _Go on Kaetzchen, just say it.  Get it over with_.

            "...as bad as they made it sound."  He winced as she continued, "and then I met you and you were, like,..."

            "Everything that every mutant hopes to never be, but fears they might become," he finished for her, unable to keep the pain from his face or voice.  That may not have been quite what she'd planned to say, but he gave her credit for being honest enough not to contradict him.

            "I still can't apologize enough Kurt.  I know that doesn't take the hurt away, doesn't make it any more defensible, but I _am so sorry."  Her eyes were shining with unshed tears and he didn't trust himself to speak.  As the first crystal droplet ran down her cheek he reached out to gently brush the moisture away with one velvet covered knuckle._

            "You know how hard it was for me to get past that at first, Kurt.  But, well, once I saw _you instead of...instead of your mutation...  Kurt, you're the best friend I've ever had.  You're __always there for me.  You always seem to know what to do, what to say...  You __notice, really notice and...and care how I feel, what I think.  You listen to me, and you take me seriously - even when I say 'like' or 'totally' every third word."  She smiled tremulously at him._

            "I've been so...scared...ever since, well, you know.  But being with you always makes it seem like everything will be okay.  Like, if the 'Fuzzy Dude' can still pull pranks and crack jokes then, well, it can't really be all that bad."

            She rubbed nervously at her face and he could see her visibly gathering the strength to continue.  He could hardly breathe as he listened to her voice crack with emotion, but he forced his eyes to remain on her face.

            "I guess, well, I never really realized what was happening.  I mean, I suppose I was so busy trying to hang on to what illusion of normalcy I could that I...I didn't realize until Saturday that, somewhere along the line, I stopped wanting 'normal.'  That what I really wanted was...was you.  I guess I've probably loved you for a while now."  She wasn't looking at him anymore, which was just as well, because slack jawed astonishment wasn't, he thought, his most flattering look.  "I just couldn't let myself realize it before.  I was still too afraid - not of you Kurt, not for a long time - too afraid of me.  Of admitting that this is me forever and always and that I'll never be _normal_ again."

            "And that's okay.  Because I don't want to be normal if it would mean not having you in my life.  I was so frightened this week, when I thought I'd driven you away...I thought I'd lost you.  I guess that when I realized I hadn't, it made me even more frightened of all the ways I really might lose you.  The world...well, it doesn't seem like a very safe place anymore, you know?"  She looked questioningly at him, eyes full of tears, and he nodded mutely, thinking it best not to tell her that he had never thought it very safe to begin with.

            "That's it, really, I suppose.  I guess it's not a very good excuse for jumping my best friend without warning in the middle of the night.  I could try and claim I just came to talk, I suppose.  I even told myself that's what I was doing - that the...uh, the...condom...was just in case.  But really...honestly," she looked him in the eye and he met her wavering gaze in mute shock.  "I had every intention of getting laid last night Fuzzy.  Whether I admitted it to myself or not - I can at least be honest now.  I'm sorry if that shocks you, or disappoints you, and I'll understand if you're angry.  But I just wanted you to know that I really do love you Fuzzy, and the only thing about last night I can bring myself to regret is if it's driven you away."  She dropped her eyes again at the end.  Unable to meet his glowing amber gaze, she stared fixedly at her hands where they rested in her lap.

            Kurt stared at her, dumbstruck, his jaw working soundlessly as his brain struggled to process the information she'd just dumped on him.  She _loved him?  She loved __him?  She had no regrets except...?_

            He saw the first tear fall, almost in slow motion, sliding down her cheek to disappear in her hair where it hung loose around her face.

            _Why doesn't she wear it loose more often?_  His brain seemed incapable of rational thought.  _Schraube__ rationaler Gedanke!_

            He reached almost convulsively for her - both hands and his tail - and pulled her, not quite roughly, into his lap.

            "No regrets, meine Liebe," he whispered hoarsely into her hair.  "Never any regrets meine schoene Liebe.  _Zur_ Hoelle mit Steuerung!_  He tilted her head back and buried his face at her throat with a moan, breathing in the scent of her, trailing kisses along her tender flesh.  He felt her surprise and confusion, but ignored them.  He let his hands roam freely - grasping, kneading, stroking - and felt her begin to relax and respond._

            As he lowered her gently to lie beneath him, she whispered softly into the fur of his chest, "no, no regrets..."

            **Next chapter we will (hopefully) get to the real conflict of this whole misguided mess.** 

TRANSLATIONS:      

Es war nicht ein Traum - it wasn't a dream

Oh Gott, ich bin tot - Oh God, I'm dead

ich denke - I think

Ich liebe dich - I love you

Du bist ein Tier, eine Missgeburt.  Niemand normal wirdst du immer wollen. - You're an animal, a (misborn) freak.  No one normal will ever want you.  - this is a mishmash of freetranslation.com, my German dictionary and a very imperfect memory of how to conjugate German verbs.  Be gentle with me (if you know German and can give me a better translation I'll love you forever)

Nein!  Es ist nicht wahr.  Ich bin nicht ein Tier. - No.  It's not true.  I'm not an aminal.

verdammt - damned

Liebe, das tut mir Leid - I'm sorry love.

Arschloch - asshole

meine schoene Liebe - my beautiful love

Schraube rationaler Gedanke - screw rational thought

Zur Holle mit Steuerung

Thanks reviewers!!!

Caerulea - thanks for some awesome and detailed feedback.  It's nice to know that someone's actually _thinking about the story and is catching the stuff I'm putting in._

Sharli - for being such a consistent and faithful reviewer.  Hope you like this chapter.

thedolphinqueen - hope you're still out there reading.

Goeleven - I am honored to accept this award and would like to thank the members of the Academy and...  But seriously, thanks, I tried.

CMDRZero01 - glad you see it that way too, 'cause I really want to keep posting here.  Here's hoping we're right.

Chishiono Tenshi - glad you like it

Everyone else I might have missed - thanks for reviewing and **_please continue to do so._**  Also, I really do want to hear if there's anything you think reeks or doesn't work.  This is in large part an exercise for me and I want to know what I need to work on.  **Any input/feedback is appreciated.**


	14. Lunch Anyone?

Disclaimer:  Don't own 'em, just wish I did.  A girl can dream, can't she?

I'm trying something new at the request of a couple of readers.  There aren't a lot of translations in this chapter, but when there are they will be provided immediately.  I understand it can be irritating having to scroll to the end for translations and then find your place in the chapter again.  Let me know if you prefer this.

As before - please review.  Love it, hate it, whatever.  Criticize my characterizations, correct my grammar, whatever strikes your fancy.  Sycophantic praise works wonders for my ego, but does nothing for my writing skills.  Thanks.  ^_~

I have been getting the impression from other stories that I've read that I'm expected to respond to reviews in each new chapter.  No offense folks, but I barely have time to write, I just don't have the time to go back over them all and come up with something to say.  However, I do read **all of the reviews as they come in.  If you want a response just let me know and give me your e-mail address.  It's much easier for me to e-mail you when I get your review.**

Hope you enjoy, I'm not too sure how happy I am with this chapter, but it was the best I could manage...

LUNCH ANYONE?

      Logan prowled down the corridor, doing his damnedest to look surly and intimidating - not that it took much effort.  He didn't want to make conversation with any of the rugrats this morning, he just wanted to make sure all the new kids hauled their lazy asses outa bed in time for breakfast and their Danger Room session.  It was well past time to start whipping them into shape.  he knew that Chuck and 'Ro wanted 'em to get a chance to 'just be kids', and that the newbies weren't necessarily even expected to join the 'team', but he figured they'd been working under the misapprehension that this was some kinda camp for long enough.  The way things had taken a turn for the militantly anti-mutant lately, it was time for them to stop screwin' around with their powers and get serious about learning to protect themselves and each other.  Even if they decided they never wanted to be X-Men, Logan couldn't imagine that being a mutant was _ever_ going to be a safe thing - at least not in their lifetimes, and probably not even in his...

            He suppressed a snarl and continued down the hall, pausing to pound on Roberto and Ray's door and growl at them to get their butts downstairs.

            "Last one in the Danger Room gets fifty push-ups, and **anyone** late gets clean-up duty in the garage for a month," he added as incentive, listening with satisfaction to the sounds of the two boys scrambling out of their improvised 'beds'.

            That was the last of 'em.  Sam, farmboy that he was, had been up well before dawn and was actually working on some finish carpentry in one of the guest rooms.  _At least one of the newbies has a decent work ethic, , he thought with some approval.  __Though 'Ro's right in his case, that kid needs to **be** a kid more.  _

            He'd actually had to threaten Bobby with the claws to get the little trouble-maker up and moving, which had scared Jamie so bad that he'd fallen over his own feet and duped himself.  Logan's lip twitched at the memory, but he quickly converted the incipient smile into a not _too_ menacing snarl for Bobby's benefit as the teen emerged from the boys' bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and an irritating grin.  After catching sight of the taciturn Canadian's face the boy sobered quickly enough and headed for his room at a trot, clutching his towel in place.  

            Logan suppressed a sigh as he turned to watch the boy's retreating back.  He didn't really want the kids scared of him, he thought with a twinge of remorse, but he'd made the mistake of getting too close to the first batch and he didn't want to repeat the mistake.  If keeping a little distance between himself and them meant they ended up frightened of him, well, he could live with that a lot easier than he could live with caring too much when they eventually up and died on him.  He had too many people who meant too much to him already.  More, he knew, than he'd let get close to him in a _long_ time.  He couldn't actually remember any of the others any more, but he knew that they'd existed none-the-less, just like he _knew_, somewhere deep in his gut, that losing them had left holes in him that could never be filled.  Even if he could no longer remember what had caused the ache of loss, it was still there.

            He scrubbed a calloused hand through his perpetually disheveled hair and suppressed another sigh as Bobby disappeared into his room.  It was better not to care... really it was.  Only, why did he have such a hard time believing that any more?

            _Speakin__' of caring too much...  He snorted in irritation with himself as he turned again and continued towards the end of the hall.  _Might as well check and see how the Elf is doing this morning_, he smirked at the thought.  __Kid probably won't so much as change position before lunch time, the feral mutant thought with rather dark satisfaction.  _Sure put his furry ass through the meat-grinder last night_._

            He hadn't said as much to the kid, but he'd actually been impressed with his performance the night before.  He'd taken everything he dished out for almost three hours and still been on his feet when it was over.  Admittedly he'd only been that way through sheer, bloody-minded force of will, but that in itself was something the Wolverine respected.  Logan seriously doubted whether any of the other kids, with the possible exception of Shades, could've stayed on their feet against everything he'd thrown at the runt, and even if they had he'd guarantee they would've been moaning, whining, complaining wrecks the second it was over.  The Elf had just stood in the middle of the suddenly quiet room, sweat streaming off him and making dark patches in his fur, while he registered that it was _over_.  Then he'd turned to the older man with a smile that was more a tooth grinding attempt to conceal pain than his normal good humor, thanked him for the work-out, and limped back to the locker room without another word.  

            Logan had pushed down his concern at how uncharacteristically subdued the boy had been, not just last night, but all week.  The only time he'd seen him really animated had been while the sims had been running and then he'd just dealt with them - quickly and with brutal efficiently and with absolutely none of his usual enthusiasm or humor.  He'd followed the kid silently back to the locker room, ready to catch him if he hit the floor, but the runt had managed to get all the way through his shower before he finally collapsed on a bench - wearing nothing but his shorts, but too tired for the moment to finish getting dressed.  Even his tail had been still and Logan had wondered if he'd have to carry him up to his room when he was done.  He had just shrugged a flannel on and was debating whether to carry the Elf or make him walk, when one surprisingly alert golden eye had cracked open and the kid had _grinned_ at him.

            "We _must_ do that again sometime, mein Herr," he'd said with a weak chuckle.  "It was very...invigorating."

            "Invigorating was it, Misfit?" he'd rumbled back, feeling an unexpected smile stretching his face.  "Sounds like I didn't work ya hard enough.  If I wasn't already clean I'd haul your sorry carcass back in there for another round." 

            "It's a shame we're all cleaned up then, ja?" he'd responded, finally moving to pull on a t-shirt and a baggy pair of cargo pants.

            "Yup, sure is," Logan had grinned ferally back at him.  "Looks like I'll just have ta make good on my promise to get ya plastered then, eh bub?"

            "Oh, you're welcome to try mein Herr.  You are _very welcome to try!"  And if that hadn't been a challenge, Logan didn't know what was.  __That sounded more like the Elf he knew._

            He'd been pleasantly surprised to see that the kid was actually steady on his feet and didn't seem too much the worse for wear, although there were gonna have to be some pretty interesting bruises hidden under that fur come morning.  He'd been even more pleased when the younger man had shown the sense to drink a _lot_ of water before he even touched the beer Logan offered him - plus he'd pretty much polished off most of the snack food the older man had stashed in his room as well.  

            Over the next three hours he'd nonchalantly thrown back around half a case of dark German beer, while maintaining his end of the conversation with _relative_ cogency - although he had taken a disturbing turn for the musical somewhere around the fifth beer.  Logan had had to remind himself that the kid was actually over the legal drinking age in a country where beer was considered a food group, as well as having spent most of his formative years in a sub-culture that probably wasn't the most straight-laced.  

            _God the runt can put it away - I just hope it stayed there.  Too bad that being able to hold your liquor isn't really considered a virtue in a sixteen year old_, the older man thought with grim amusement as he headed down the hall. 

            He was still a good fifteen feet from the kid's door when his enhanced senses registered a combination of sounds and smells that stopped him dead in his tracks, eyes widening in surprise.

            _Well shit!_  He was so surprised he nearly said it aloud.  He continued on a few feet, not really believing the evidence of his senses for the first time in years, and then stopped again as his brain supplied images to go with what he was very definitely hearing and smelling - and God if that wasn't disturbing he didn't know what was.

            "Unfuckingbelievable!" he muttered at the frantic sounds he could now hear clearly through the thick oak door.  He turned abruptly on his heel and strode back the way he'd come, glowering in earnest now.  Just because he didn't care what they did in private didn't mean that he wanted to know when they were doing it!

            _Jesus, Elf sure as hell has stamina, if nothing else,_ he though with grudging, if somewhat disgusted, respect.

            He resisted the urge to plug his hears and hold his nose as he retraced his steps.  It seemed that now that he knew what was going on the sounds and smells permeated the entire hall, although he _knew_ that anyone else could probably stand right outside the damn door and have not a clue what was going on.  _Thank God for small mercies._

            _Ya'd__ think after all this time, I'd be used ta that kind of thing, he thought sardonically as he headed down the stairs.  It wasn't like he hadn't heard or smelled _way_ more than he would've liked more times than he could count - even with most of his memories missing he knew that much.  But, knowing exactly what random strangers were doing in the motel room next door is an entirely different matter than knowing that two kids he lived with, trained with, and had become more attached to than he liked to admit, were going at it just down the hall._

            He heard footsteps on the stairs behind him as Shades came down at his usual clip. 

            "Hey, Logan!" he called.  "You've got the new kids in the Danger Room this morning?" he asked as the older man paused and turned on the stairs.

            "Ayup," he grunted laconically as the teen came abreast of him.

            "That's good then.  I want to take the team through some drills this afternoon, around two, if you want to come help beat them into shape."

            "Eh?  Sounds good Scooter.  I'll be there."

            The X-Men's leader looked at him quizzically.  "Anything wrong Logan?"

            _You have **no idea**_ he wanted to reply, but simply shook his head in the negative as he hit the bottom of the stairs and made a bee-line for the coffee.

            He'd been considering warning everyone off the Elf's room for the rest of the morning, just to give him some time to recover.  _Sure as hell looks like he didn't need that_.  Now, there was no question in his mind that he'd better warn them off, if for an entirely different reason than he'd had in mind.  No good purpose could possibly be served by having any of the kids find out what was going on.  _Guess I'll have to cover for the Half-Pint too now_, he thought in consternation.  _Damn, those kids are gonna owe me one!_

            Kitty poked her head quite literally _through the door to the hallway and peered cautiously around.  Seeing no signs of life, she quickly phased the rest of the way into the hall and turned in the direction of the girls wing of the 'dormitories', the remains of her shirt clutched in a small bundle to her chest._

            Everyone else _should_ be down getting ready for lunch by now, but she didn't want to run into someone straggling down late if she could help.  She did _not_ want to try and explain her current attire and her prolonged absence if there was any way she could avoid it.  She had slunk carefully past the head of the stairs and was feeling pretty confident that she was 'home free', just two doors down from her room, when the sound of a throat being cleared behind her stopped her dead in her tracks.

            _God, I hope that stays a figure of speech_, she thought nervously as she turned slowly, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach and the flush burning its way up her cheeks.  She was fairly proud that she had neither jumped right out of her skin nor bolted in terror, although she almost wished she had (run, that is) as she forced herself to face Mr. Logan where he stood, face expressionless, at the head of the stairs.

            She stood there for what seemed like a lifetime - although maybe that was only because her entire brief life seemed to be flashing before her eyes - seeing nothing but his stony face and waiting for the explosion she was sure would come.  She had _really_ hoped to avoid the Wolverine until _after_ she'd had a chance to shower and change.  Kurt had told her that there was no point trying to fool the surly Canadian, but Kitty had hoped to try anyway.  Now she was remembering exactly why.

            "Um, Mr. Logan.  Like...uh...hi..." she squeaked before her voice trailed away into nervous silence.  

            His nostrils flared as his eyes traveled slowly from her bare feet to her unkempt hair, lingering meaningfully on Kurt's ratty old t-shirt hanging on her like a tent as well as the wadded shirt she still clutched to her chest, until she shoved it behind her back.  She shifted nervously from foot to foot as the silence stretched uncomfortably, rapidly formulating and discarding possible excuses or justifications and wishing he'd just get it over with - yell at her, hand out punishment, and let her crawl away to die quietly of embarrassment.  His examination made her feel like a piece of meat he was checking for possible freshness and she had just about reached her breaking point, was actually on the verge of a pre-emptive strike of non-stop babble, when he slowly raised one eyebrow and snorted quietly in what _might_ have been amusement.

            "Ya might want ta consider changing into somethin' of yours before you go down for lunch Half-Pint," he told her in a neutral tone, voice no more gruff than normal.  "Oh, and Red was lookin' for ya earlier - talkin' 'bout shoppin' or some such nonsense."  Kitty thought her heart might just stop as she thought about what Jean might have 'heard' if she had been 'looking' telepathically.  She wasn't sure she was going to be able to face the older girl again.

            "I told her ya'd turn up eventually and ta leave ya alone to enjoy your mornin' in peace and quiet if that's what ya wanted," he gave her a meaningful look and her heart lurched as he continued.  "She wasn't too happy, but she decided she didn't really need ya bad enough ta justify scannin' for ya."  His eyebrow was still raised slightly and as he spoke, one corner of his mouth had quirked up to join it.  

            Kitty felt her stomach flip-flop uncomfortably as she let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding.  Not only did he know just where she'd been and what she'd been doing, he apparently had known all morning.  And he _hadn't_ come charging in, claws out and threatening mayhem?  He _wasn't_ lecturing her, or exercising his legendary vocabulary to verbally rip her a new asshole?  He'd _covered for her_?

            "Who are you and what have you done with Mr. Logan?" she asked before she could stop herself.  _Oh God, I'm dead now, I can't believe I just said that._  She cringed in anticipatory fear, but his only response was for both of his eyebrows to shoot  up briefly, almost disappearing into his hairline, accompanied by another snort and what could only be called a smile.  A small and not very amused smile, but a smile none-the-less.  _This is getting **really** freaky_.

            "Squirt, what goes on behind closed doors around here ain't none of my business, or anybody else's for that matter, so long as no one gets hurt," he rumbled at her.  "I don't see as anyone's gotten hurt here, so I don't see as I need to stick my nose in where it wasn't asked for and ain't wanted.  You think differently?"  He raised one eyebrow again, questioningly this time, and she shook her head vehemently, not quite trusting herself to speak.

            "Didn't think so.  Now, like I said, why don't you run along and get yerself cleaned up fer lunch, before tongues start to wag 'bout where you disappeared to all mornin', huh?  I've got some stuff here fer the Elf - 'Ro figured he couldn't afford to miss breakfast _and_ lunch, and she's probably right."  For the first time Kitty looked down from his face and noticed with surprise that he was carrying a large tray in each hand, laden with assorted high calorie items.  The combination of foods was just about enough to turn her stomach, though she had no doubt Kurt would plough through them with gusto.  It also reminded her that she hadn't eaten since the popcorn she'd had at midnight the night before and she was _hungry._

            "Go on Half-Pint.  Get out of here and get fed, because," he glanced at the grandfather clock at the head of the stairs, "in about two hours I get you and the rest of the team in the Danger Room.  Got it broken in _real_ good, between th'Elf last night and the new kids this mornin', and now it's all ready for you guys."  He was still smiling, but it had taken a decided turn for the evil now.  "Oh, and Half-Pint?  Don't be late."  And then he had turned and was striding down the boys' hall.  

            She stood frozen for a moment longer, then turned and practically ran the rest of the way to her room.  Not even bothering with the door, she phased right through the wall and promptly collapsed against it, sliding slowly down to the floor.  She couldn't _believe he'd let her off scot-free.  Mr. Logan knew perfectly well how she'd spent the better part of the last ten hours or so and he __didn't care?_

            "Unfuckingbelievable," she murmured dazedly to herself, too shocked to care about her language.  "With luck like that, I should clean out everyone's piggy banks and head to Atlantic City - I could win a fortune and probably not even get carded!"

            With a sigh she levered herself up and collected a towel and assorted bathroom paraphernalia.  She'd have to hurry if she was going to make lunch, but she wasn't _about to go down without a shower.  At the moment she doubted that anyone would really need Mr. Logan's enhanced sense of smell to figure out exactly what she'd been up to, and she didn't really think it would make a great topic of conversation over lunch._

            Kurt lay sprawled in an inelegant heap across his 'bed', eyes slightly glazed and a ridiculous smile plastered on his face as he watched her disappear through the door.  he could still smell her, feel her warmth on the blanket beside him, and his tail swayed and curled above him in contented languor.  he twisted his fingers into one edge of the blanket and dragged it to his face, breathing deeply of her scent where it lingered in the fabric, then let it fall with a quiet sigh as his eyes drifted shut.  God, he was tired, but, for the first time all week, it was a good tired - a satisfying, bone-deep exhaustion.  He didn't think there was a tense muscle left in his entire body.  _Ach, I think that could be an alternative to yoga_, he thought with sleepy amusement.  _Just as relaxing and **much** more fun!  He might have laughed at the thought if he had the energy._

            Some dim corner in the back of his brain was trying to tell him that he shouldn't feel this good, that what he'd done was _wrong.  Just now, though, he couldn't be bothered listening to it.  He probably would later, more's the pity, but for now all he had the energy for was to lie there and feel insufferably pleased with how things had turned out.  The only thing that could make him feel better would be to have Kitty's warm nakedness pressed up against him still as he drifted off to sleep.  Plenty of time to worry about having sex with his 'little sister' and the whole virginity issue later.  Really..._

            It was some consolation that she really hadn't wanted to leave any more than he had wanted her to.  Unfortunately, reality had reared its ugly head.  Kurt had been peripherally aware of the assorted sounds of life going on around them for some time.  Due, however, to the extra sound-proofing the Professor had had installed in _all_ the rooms this time around, he had no doubt that Kitty had still been blissfully unaware of their house mates bustling about their lives on the other side of his bedroom door.  This ended abruptly when one pair of footsteps had halted just outside, immediately followed by a sharp knock.

            "Hey, 'Crawler!  You alive in there dude?" came Evan's muffled voice through the  thick wood.  They had both jumped as if shocked and looked, simultaneously and with identical expressions of horror, at the _unlocked_ door.

            _Oh Gott, don't let him open the door, **don't let him open the door.**_..  The words had run non-stop through his head as Kitty had scrambled frantically for the clothes she had discarded yet again.  Despite the tension inherent in the situation, Kurt had been completely incapable of keeping his eyes off her nude body as she struggled into the jeans she had retrieved from a pile on the floor.  _Oh.  Mein.  Gott.  She is **lovely, it had felt like a prayer and he had been unable to move.  He'd known he should rush for the door, stall Evan, do **__something, but all he had been able to do was stare at her, not even aware that he'd stopped breathing._

            He'd been jerked back to reality by the sound of Evan's hands rattling the door knob and his voice again, indistinct through the thick oak-paneled door.  "Hey Kurt, come on man!"

            _Oh Gott, he's coming in_!  he had been about to 'port to the door in an effort to keep the younger boy from actually entering when they'd been rescued by another voice in the corridor.

            "What the heck are you doing Evan?"  Scott hadn't sounded amused.  "Didn't you hear what Logan said?  Or do you actually _want an extra hour in the Danger Room when the rest of us are done?" he'd asked in an exasperated tone._

            "No way man.  But come on, Kurt won't mind.  I mean, shit Scott, missing one meal's one thing, but the 'Crawler bailing on two meals in a row?  Dude, something is fucked here and you know it.  This ain't like the rest of the week - y'know, grabbing stuff on the go and avoiding us.  He hasn't so much as stuck one fuzzy, pointed blue ear outa that room all morning."  The younger boy had sounded concerned and Kurt had felt a twinge of guilt at how he'd behaved to his friends all week.  He'd told himself that they probably hadn't even noticed, but obviously he'd been wrong.

            "I know Evan," Scott had replied, his voice also laced with concern.  "But Logan said to just give his some time and space man, and you know he's right.  Kurt'll come around, we've just gotta let him do it in his own time."

            "But Scott, it just ain't like him..."

            "No buts Ev.  You weren't around when he first got here.  Just trust me when I tell you that Logan _knows what he's talking about, okay?  I don't know what it's about, but something's riding him, and he needs to get it sorted out in his own head before he tries to deal with us."  He'd fallen into 'Fearless Leader' mode, his tone confident and commanding.  Kurt had felt more than a little embarrassed to be overhearing this conversation, even more so knowing that Kitty had been listening too._

            "Ya gotta know that if there was anything seriously wrong, the Professor'd handle it.  Come on, let's go help with lunch before Amara has a hissy."

            "Yeah, I know man.  You're right and all.  It's just kinda quiet around here without the 'Crawler raisin' seven kindsa hell, y'know?"

            "Don't worry Evan, he'll be back in business in no time - and then I'll remind you of this moment when you start bitching about his practical jokes again."  The older boy had laughed then, and Kurt had let his breath out in relief at the sound of their steps retreating down the hall, the sound echoed by Kitty as she let out an explosive sight and slumped to the floor next to him.

            "That was close," she'd whispered to him with a nervous smile, leaning against his shoulder.  He had smiled absently at her, still focused on his friends' conversation as they headed for the stairs.

            "Now, if _Kitty_ doesn't show up for lunch, I'm gonna sick Jean on her," Scott had been saying.  "We've got a Danger Room session this afternoon and it's not like her to just disappear without saying anything to anyone."

            "Yeah, you're right there man," Evan had agreed.  "Now, if Fuzz Butt there weren't outa commission, I'd bet my best board that she was off somewhere with him!"

            "Oh yeah, and probably up to no good!" Scott had agreed with a laugh, which Kurt had quietly echoed as their voices had faded in the distance as they headed down stairs.

            "What's so funny Fuzzy?" Kitty had asked with some asperity.  She had been burrowing under his arm and Kurt had forgotten that she couldn't hear anything the other teens had said after they started to walk away.  "That could have been a first class, grade A disaster you know," but she was smiling again and he realized with pleased surprise that, in her panic to get covered, she had grabbed her own ruined shirt, which was hanging open in a _most_ attractively revealing manner.

            "Ja Liebe, that would not have been my first choice of how to come out of the closet, so to speak.  But catastrophe has been averted."  As he'd spoken, he'd given her a somewhat predatory grin and his hands had drifted, all of their own accord (really), to the soft, warm flesh beneath her shirt.  "I would thank Scott for his timely intervention, but then I'd have to tell him why, wouldn't I?"  His focus had narrowed to the soft pink of her lips as his hands had continued to roam.

            "I guess he'll have to go through life without knowing that he has our undying gratitude then," she'd whispered, and her warm breath had brushed his lips.  He wasn't sure which of them had closed the gap then, and didn't really care, as he felt her lips - soft and warm and insistent - against his own.  His tail had wrapped around her waist and he'd pulled her, unresisting, into his lap, gasping at the feel of her hands moving with increasing confidence and familiarity over the smooth, hard planes of his chest and belly.

            He'd been on the verge of divesting her of her clothes yet again, when the last bit of Scott and Evan's conversation had drifted, unbidden, through his lust-fogged brain.

            "Kaetzchen," he'd almost moaned as he pushed her gently away.  "You've got to leave now, Liebe."  He'd been intensely aware of his own continued nudity and more than a little embarrassed by how obvious his 'interest' in her was - as well as how rapidly it had developed.

            She'd looked petulant, sullen and ready to argue and he'd had to laugh.  She'd looked like nothing so much as a thwarted six year old.  Her attitude had quickly changed, however, when he'd informed her that she could expect an unscheduled telepathic visit from Jean if she didn't make an appearance at lunch.  That bit of information had effectively squelched her ardor and sent her into a frenzy as she rushed to get back to her room.

            Kurt had watched in amused appreciation as she'd struggled out of her pants again (his really, since she'd grabbed whatever had come most quickly to hand in her earlier panic) as well as her ruined shirt, trading for her own jeans and his ratty old t-shirt.  It was somewhat less incriminating than her own torn blouse if someone caught her in the hall.  Then she'd given him one last kiss before he had collapsed on his 'bed' and she had disappeared through his door.

            Now he again breathed deeply of the lingering scent of her, as well as the mingled aroma of their passion and smiled.  _I may be no match for __Logan__, but sometimes it's **good to have enhanced senses.**_

            He was just beginning to drift off to sleep, total exhaustion as well as a serious calorie deficit overwhelming his determination to shower and go down for lunch himself, when the sound of his door swinging open jerked him partway back to consciousness.

            He couldn't even bother to open his eyes to see who'd come in, but he hoped, in a vague kind of way, that it wasn't anyone who'd be terribly shocked or offended to walk in on him lying there stark naked.  _Oh well_, he thought hazily, _if it bothers them, then it's their own verdammt fault for walking in without knocking...besides...at least I'm...on my...belly..._ and then even his thoughts trailed away.  

            He had actually lost all interest in his phantom visitor and was almost completely unconscious when he was startled again by a large hand descending on his shoulder.

            _Now **that's a problem**_! he thought as he surged gracefully to his feet, dropping automatically into a fighting crouch.

            There was a short bark of laughter, and his eyes finally focused on Logan standing in front of him, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, and a look of intense amusement lurking in his shadowed brown eyes.  Kurt dropped to the floor in a boneless heap, the adrenaline that had gotten him up and moving disappearing rapidly in the absence of an immediate threat.

            "Y'know Elf, you're a _bit more intimidating with some clothes on," the older man rumbled, "not much, but a bit."  His deep, gravelly voice vibrating with suppressed laughter, he reached down and grabbed Kurt's pants.  "Here, put these on Misfit, that's just a bit more fuzzy blue anatomy than I really wanta look at while I talk to you," and he tossed the beige cargos at the younger man._

            Kurt caught them clumsily and stared stupidly at them, as if wondering just what he was supposed to do with them, vaguely noticing at the same time that, despite his complaint, the older man hadn't bothered to look away.  He struggled briefly with the idea of getting dressed before dropping the pants with a snort and stating tiredly, "more effort than it's worth," and instead flipped an end of the blanket he was sitting on across his lap.  "Like it or lump it mein Freund, it's the best you're getting," he informed the taciturn Canadian.  He noticed with a kind of detached interest that his accent had thickened and he was slurring his words a bit.

            "Okay Elf, he snorted in disgust, obviously irritated by Kurt's condition.  "Ya know kid, sometimes I don't think you've got the sense your god gave a goat.  I'm sure it's just a thing of beauty that you and the Half-Pint got your differences...worked out...in such a _satisfying_ way, but did it ever occur to you that it might have been a good idea to get a little rest and maybe actually _eat_ something."  His voice was gruff and exasperated, but Kurt caught the undercurrent of amusement as well.

            "Oh, but a man can _sleep anytime Herr Logan," he mumbled tiredly, with a vaguely self-satisfied smile.  "Besides," he added, peering slyly from beneath his lowered lashes, "I _did_ eat something."_

            Logan's eyebrows shot right into his hairline at that, and he barked a short, harsh laugh.  "I _meant somethin' with calories Misfit.  And, by the way, that was an image I really didn't need."  He swallowed rather heavily and, if Kurt hadn't been almost certain that it was impossible, he would have sworn the normally stoic Canadian was blushing.  _

            _I can't blame him if he is, I sure as hell am_, he thought in startled a mazement.  _Mein__ Gott, did I actually say that?  Must eat and sleep...my brain is officially fried._

            There was a moment of rather uncomfortable silence that Kurt couldn't be bothered to break, as his eyes drifted shut yet again.

            "Okay kid," Logan announced dryly.  "Time for good little elves to wake up and eat."  Something in that statement rang a bell in his memory, and he cracked one eye open in a very sad attempt at a baleful glare.  

            "Verpiss dich, I am _not_ a toddler," he replied acidly, intentionally choosing a language he was fairly certain the older man didn't know.  His attempt at affronted dignity was somewhat ruined when he failed to stifle a jaw cracking yawn.  [fuck off or fuck you]

            "No, just an idiot," the older man stated with amused certainty, placidly ignoring the obvious obscenity.

            Kurt's only response was to stick out his tongue petulantly at him, as his one open eye drifted shut again.  Both eyes snapped open with alacrity, however, at the distinctive 'snikt' inches from his face.  One razor sharp claw hovered directly in front of his still protruding tongue.  

            "Stick that out at me again Misfit, and I just might cut it off," Logan rumbled menacingly.

            Even though he knew it was a bluff, Kurt was suddenly wide awake, and his heart couldn't decide whether to race or stop altogether.  There was just something about having a blade of any kind inches from his face that pushed all his panic buttons.

            "Oh shit kid!  You should _see_ your face!"  Kurt relaxed as the claw was retracted with another 'snikt' and the sound of Logan's rumbling laughter filled the room.  "Christ Elf, I thought you were gonna wet yerself!"

            "Very funny Logan," he mumbled sulkily, "and don't take the Lord's name in vain," he added absently as an afterthought.  _Oh, like I have any moral authority on **that front lately, he thought with some discomfort.  **__If Father Dominic gives me a Hail Mary or Our Father for every time I've done that in the last week I'll be on my knees for hours!  Forget my normal penance for just having a generally foul mouth._

            "Sorry Elf," the older man responded, still chuckling softly, "but at least you're awake enough to eat now, eh?"

            "Ja, ja," he replied, waving a hand vaguely.  The tempting aroma of food was beginning to penetrate through the fog in his brain.  "Have anything liquid?" he asked with a smile.  "I don't think I have the energy to chew."  _Sadly enough, I think I'm only half joking, he thought with amusement.  To his surprise the older man stooped and grabbed a glass of something off a tray Kurt hadn't even noticed and passed it to the semi-conscious teen.  It appeared to be chocolate milk, but further examination showed it to be one of those high energy drinks favored by body builders.  It was thick, almost to the point of being chewy and had a distinctively unattractive aroma, and he didn't even stop for breath as he drained it in one gulp._

            "Danke schoen," he told Logan as he set down the empty glass.

            "Eh, well, thank 'Ro when you drag your ass outa here.  She put it together for ya.  Seems like yeh've managed ta get the whole damned house worryin' after ya."  He snorted in amusement.  "She read me the riot act this mornin' when I warned everyone off ya fer the day.  Wanted ta know what the hell I thought I was doin', draggin' 'the poor boy' through an extended training session," he sing-songed in good-natured mockery.  "Couldn't I tell ya'd had a bad enough week without adding insult to injury?"  He snorted again.  "You owe me one Elf, big time.  I'm right at the top of 'Ro's shit list for now."

            Kurt was torn between amusement at the man's predicament and discomfort at the knowledge that, apparently, he was the topic of worry and speculation for a significant number of his house mates.

            _I have **got to work on my technique**_, he thought with somewhat morbid humor.  _Don't they know that I'm a carefree elf?  Not a trouble in the world?_

            Aloud he said, "Sorry about that Logan, and thank you.  I owe you two mein Freund.  One for that and one for giving me the first decent night's sleep I've had all week."  He grinned at the older man, feeling much more alert with something in his stomach, and grabbed a sandwich off the tray next to him.  "I will have to remember to thank Frau Munroe for her thoughtfulness, ja?" he added, as he proceeded to virtually inhale the food.

            "Ya know Elf.  I'm not so sure I had anything to do with you gettin' some rest last night - however much ya _did_ get.  Ya might want ta thank someone else for that, eh?" and the older man flashed him a feral grin.

            He couldn't be bothered answering as he continued to eat, absolutely starving now that he was more awake.  He simply raised one indigo eyebrow at the gruff Canadian.

            Conversation pretty much ceased at that point, Logan watching with amusement as the slightly built teen packed away enough food to keep any three grown men with normal metabolisms happy all  day.  By the time the furry teleporter had cleaned off both trays he was feeling very sleepy again.  The food had given him only a temporary boost before the mental and physical exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours (not to mention the last week) set in again.  Kurt slumped down onto his blanket and Logan was halfway to the door when the feral mutant stopped and fixed him with an almost predatory glare.

            "By the way Misfit, I told the Half-Pint and I'll tell you.  I don't give a damn what goes on behind closed doors around here - that's no one's business but yours and hers.  _This is just for you though."  His voice lowered until it rumbled deep in his chest - clear, deliberate and barely short of a growl.  "You hurt her, or knock her up, and I'll be addin' a pair of fuzzy blue balls to my trophy collection."  _

            One claw shot out for emphasis and Kurt had to quell the urge to swallow nervously - it didn't matter how often he saw them or how comfortable he was with their owner, it was always...disconcerting...at best to have them pointed at him.  Instead he plastered on his best 'who me?' expression.

            "Why Herr Logan," he responded in a tone that implied butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.  "I didn't know you _had_ a trophy collection."

            "I don't Elf, but I'm open to the idea of startin' one."

            "I'll keep that in the forefront of my mind mein Freund," he answered with a sleepy grin.

            "You do that Elf, you make damn sure you do that," and he was gone, the door closing quietly behind him.

            Kurt rolled only his stomach with a contented sigh and inhaled deeply.  _Oh yes, it's good to have the enhanced senses, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.  For the first time all week he wasn't worried about his dreams._

            Logan shook his head and stifled a low growl as he exited the boy's room.  He wasn't sure if he was more irritated or amused by the situation.  When he'd poured the runt into bed the night before - correction, earlier that morning - he would've laid odds against him so much as waking up any time before noon.  Hell, he'd run the kid through a meat-grinder and then gotten him so pissed he could hardly stand.  He scraped one large, rough hand across the bristles on his jaw and shook his head again as he tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress a smile.  He just couldn't believe that the little squirrel had managed to..._perform...considering the shape he'd left him in.  Probably wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen, heard and smelled the evidence for himself._

            _Good God, that room frickin' reeks of sex_!  he thought with a grimace as he headed back down the stairs.  _No wonder the little squirrel's so damned pleased with himself._

            He inhaled deeply, trying to replace the overwhelming aroma of sex permeating the olfactory centers of his brain with the smells of lunch drifting up from below.  He was only partially successful.  

            _All I can say is I sure as hell hope **this** takes care of his problem, whatever the hell it is.  Cause if it doesn't help things it'll probably make them worse.  One thing about sex is it ain't **ever neutral**_.  

            He shook his head, trying not to worry about something that he couldn't control.  But he couldn't help but wonder if any kind of serious relationship was really something the Elf needed right now.  He knew, intellectually, that he was _supposed_ to be worried about Kitty, but she wasn't the one falling apart piece-meal lately, and besides, he'd much rather she were with the Elf than that Alvers creep.  It had only been Chuck's insistence that she had to make her own mistakes that had kept him from..._warning_...the kid off.  _Oh, who the hell am I kidding - beating the ever-loving shit outa him is more like it.  And Scooter and the Elf woulda been **more** than happy to help.  Eh, all water under the bridge now though.  Gave Elf the obligatory warning, now it's up to them._

            He snorted in combined amusement and consternation.  _Shit, 'Ro and Chuck'll blow a gasket if they catch on.  Sure hope those two can keep things under control, or at least at a low volume_,  He began to laugh quietly as another thought occurred to him.  _Then again, it'd just about be worth the price of admission to see their faces when they figure out a couple of their 'kids' are growin' up a bit faster'n expected._

            "Hrmph!"  _Good thing Chuck don't believe in readin' the kids, or those two'd be in for a world of hurt.  Don't know how justified it'd be though. Hell, we give 'em all the worries and responsibilities of adults, what can you really expect._  Really good thing Chuck had all that extra sound-proofing installed, or based on what he'd heard this morning, there'd be quite a few more folks privy to those kids' sex life than they'd probably like.

            Another amusing possibility sprang to mind as he entered the kitchen and his quiet laughter became an all out guffaw that he didn't bother to stifle.

            _Well, now we'll see if Red's really as virtuous as she's supposed to be.  Her reaction when Kit shows up at lunch should tell it all, 'cause the Half-Pint'll probably be projectin' for all she's worth_.

            Ororo and Scott were giving him strange looks as he dropped the dirty dishes in the sink, leaving them for the clean-up crew.  Ororo raised one elegant eyebrow at him in question, but his only response was to shrug and announce in a voice still choked with laughter, "just thinkin' 'Ro.  Just thinkin'," as he headed outside for lunch.

            Kitty managed to shower, change and get downstairs in record time.  It was amazing what a little incentive could do for her normally leisurely (as she preferred to think of them) bathroom habits.  Never the less, by the time she emerged into the back 'garden' - or what would again be the garden soon - lunch was in full swing and chaos reigned supreme.  She could only assume, from the way Ray was chasing Bobby through the narrow paths of the not quite reconstituted formal rose garden, that the younger boy had probably frozen Berzerker's lunch...again.  _You'd think he would've learned his lesson the first time Ray chased him down and zapped him_, she thought with amusement, _but no one is ever going to accuse the Iceman of learning from his mistakes_.  As she watched, Ray caught the younger boy long enough to give him a low-grade toasting before letting him go and returning to his now defrosting meal.  

            Most everyone else was still scattered around on the new sod lawns or low walls surrounding the various gardens, conversing and eating - all except Jamie, who had duped himself and was playing a game of one on one on the recently completed basketball court.  Kitty took a deep breath and headed for the 'table' where the food was collected.  Bobby had obviously been pressed into service to provide it - good thing none of the food needed to be hot.  She found that concentrating on loading her plate helped her ignore the feeling that she had a neon sign pulsing on her forehead for all to see.  She wasn't sure whether it should proclaim her newly found love or her recently lost virginity, but, either way, she was quite sure it must be glaringly obvious.

            "Hey, Kitty!  Where've you been hiding all morning?"

            She nearly jumped out of her skin as Scott's voice cut through the general clamor.  Holding her plate in suddenly trembling hands, she turned to the older boy with a glare.  "Can't a person take a little personal time around here without getting the third degree?" she snapped.  She knew as soon as the words were gone beyond recall that the response was _way out of proportion to the question, and the looks of surprise on his and Jean's faces confirmed it._

            "Jeez, touchy much?" Evan asked from his spot next to Amara on the low wall by the basketball court.  She winced and flushed red under the sudden scrutiny of almost all of her housemates.  _Well, I may not have been the center of attention before, but I sure am now_.

            "Um, like, sorry Scott," she started with a rather sheep smile.  "I, um, skipped breakfast and I guess I'm, like, a bit grouchy now.  Just let me, like, stuff my face and I'll be my normal sweet-natured self."  She hated how the valley girlese seemed to just slip out when she was nervous.

            "Hey, uh, no problem Kitty.  I didn't mean to be nosy.  It's just that it's not like you to disappear without saying anything."  He and Jean exchanged a meaningful look and she knew that she was currently the subject of a private telepathic exchange - a fact which made her inordinately nervous under the circumstances.  She found herself wishing that she had put more work into strengthening the mental shields the Professor had trained all of them to erect.

            Everyone else seemed to have lost interest in her again - thank God - so when Scott gestured her over she took her plate and went to join Scott, Jean and Rogue at the foot of the main stairs, trying to ignore the odd look her former room-mate gave her as she did so.

            "It's okay Scott," she told her team leader with a smile as she reached them.  "I just, like, didn't have anything scheduled this morning for the first time in, like, weeks.  I decided to take advantage of it and sleep in good and late, then spend some time away from all you guys for a change."  She wasn't _really_ lying, she just wasn't telling them the whole truth.  _Nothing wrong with that_, she though defensively as she noticed Rogue giving her an another odd, unreadable look.  _Nothing wrong with that at all._

            She had been standing, juggling her plate and her drink, but Scott shifted to give her room on the step with them.  "No problem Kit.  Have a seat," he gestured to the spot between him and Rogue.  "I just wanted to give you a heads up on a team drill in the Danger Room this afternoon.  Two o'clock.  We haven't done any proper training for ages, so I asked Logan to come help beat us into shape.  I guess, from what Logan said, that Kurt won't be there, but the rest of us need the work anyway."  Their 'Fearless Leader' looked positively gleeful at the prospect of getting back into his beloved Danger Room and, no doubt, working them all until they cursed his family to the seventh generation.  

            Kitty suppressed a resigned sigh.  The only one around here who took even half as much pleasure in these drills as Scott and Logan was Kurt, and he wouldn't even be there.  Damn!  Out loud she only said, "Oh, um, sure.  Two o'clock?  I'll be there," but she exchanged a knowing look with Jean and Rogue.  _Boys will be boys_, it as good as said.

            She sat gingerly down in the place Scott had cleared, trying not to wince.  _That's not as bad as I thought it would be, she told herself - and it wasn't really.  She was a _bit_ uncomfortable, but, the way she'd heard some of the girls at school talk, she'd expected to be too sore to sit comfortably for a week.  __That'll teach me to listen to locker room gossip.  They didn't have any idea what they were talking about.  Really, after the pain she'd psyched herself up to expect, both during and after, it had hardly hurt at all, and only for a little while.  _Heck, the second time didn't really hurt at all_, she thought with a private smile.  As she shifted to try and find a more comfortable position on the hard stone step, she caught Rogue eyeing her yet again.  Flushing with embarrassment she glanced nervously at Jean and returned her attention to her lunch.  __Try and keep your mind **off** of that Pryde, she told herself firmly.  The last thing she needed was to project something particularly incriminating in the older girl's presence._

            Rogue's almost constant scrutiny was also giving her the distinct impression that she was going to want to avoid her former room-mate for the rest of the day if at all possible.  Either that or prepare to answer, or evade, some rather uncomfortable and potentially embarrassing questions.  Feeling decidedly uncomfortable, she concentrated on polishing off her lunch and let the conversations going on around her just wash over her.  

            Her reverie was broken by Rogue's light drawl, "Oh, and Kitty, remember ya promised ta help me with mah physics homework after lunch today.  There oughta be plenty a' time before Mr. Military here," she indicated Scott with a jerk of her head, "drags us off for a pounding."

            _Oh I am so screwed_! Kitty thought with frustration as she met the older girl's suspiciously innocuous smile with a rather strained smile of her own.  

            "I really prefer Fearless Leader," Scott intoned seriously, a thoughtful look on his face.  But," he added with a grin for the three girls, "dominus et deus'll do just as well in a pinch." [lord and god in Latin]

            Jean's squeal of mock outrage as she upended the remains of her water bottle over their erstwhile 'lord's' head drew all eyes to the quartet on the steps.

            "Was it something I said?" Scott asked with feigned innocence, as water ran down his face in rivulets and the three girls broke down in breathless laughter.  


	15. Moving On

First, apologies for the long wait for an update.  Second, apologies for the fact that this chapter is more than a little disappointing.  Real life - in the form of repeated illnesses, my husband working 12 hour days for 26 days straight, and my in-laws house being razed in the San Diego fires - has intervened.  Throw in some major writer's block and you've got a recipe for what follows.  I hope it's not too atrocious.  

Boy, I probably shouldn't have told you that up front, eh?  Read it anyway, you know you want to...really you do....

MOVING ON

                Kurt drifted awake in a warm haze of contentment.  Cracking one bleary golden eye, he took in the dim light of late afternoon filtering in through the closed french doors to his balcony.  He suffered a brief moment of disorientation as he wondered just why he should feel so tranquil - he was stark naked, on the floor, in an empty room - and then his brain lurched into gear and he let his eyes drift briefly shut again at a pleasant flood of memory.

            He had, however, wakened for a reason, and the waning light served to confirm what both his stomach and his internal clock were telling him - it was fast approaching dinner time.  He stretched slightly, not really shifting position, just easing a few kinks and giving his cramped tail a little more freedom of movement.  He really wasn't eager to move, although he knew he'd have to soon - between his full bladder and his empty stomach he wasn't going to have much choice.  For the moment, however, it felt wonderful to just lie there, relaxed and rested for the first time in what felt like forever, with no nightmare images lurking in the dark corners of his mind, waiting to spring on him the moment he let his guard down.  He wasn't going to delude himself into believing that he was done touring his own little corner of hell, but he sure wasn't going to turn his nose up at a reprieve, however short lived it might turn out to be.  Besides, there would certainly be more than enough time later to beat himself up over all the ways he'd screwed up in the last week in general and the last twenty four hours in particular.  For now, he was going to indulge in a last few peaceful minutes before dragging himself bodily out of the hole he'd been hiding in all week and heading down to join his 'family' for dinner.  

            Kitty mopped the last of the sweat off of her face and neck and then dropped the small towel she'd been using on top of a growing pile in the corner of her room.  After scrounging through her duffel in search of a change of clothes she grabbed a small floral print bag and headed out the door and down the hall to one of the girls' bathrooms.  Rogue and Jean were, as usual, showering and changing in the locker room just across from the Danger Room.  Kitty almost always came back upstairs though.  Even after all this time, she couldn't get past her self-conscious discomfort at the idea of being naked in front of others, even her closest friends.

            _You didn't have any trouble being naked in front of Kurt last night or this morning, her subconscious reminded her rather snidely.  Really, though, that wasn't entirely true.  She had been fine so long as he wasn't actually **looking** at her.  She felt her skin heat as she remembered the way he had _looked_ at her this morning, his eyes burning as he'd refused to allow her to cover herself.  __You are beautiful, Kaetzchen, he'd whispered, and she'd known he meant it.  With a start she realized that she was standing motionless in the hall, towel and bag clutched tightly to her chest, blushing scarlet and beginning to hyperventilate.  She practically jumped back into motion and didn't pause until she had flung herself into the safety of the bathroom and locked the door behind her, thankful that no one had come along to ask her any awkward questions._

            Moments later she had adjusted the water temperature to something just short of scalding, laid out her shower supplies and skinned out of her sweat soaked uniform and under garments.  With a sigh of relief she stepped under the soothing spray.  Leaning her forehead against the tiled wall, she relaxed as the water washed away some of her aches and tensions along with the sweat and grime of her exertions in the Danger Room.

            Now **that** had been an unmitigated disaster.  Every time she had caught Rogue or Mr. Logan looking at her, or even thought she had, she'd lost her concentration.  It had gotten so bad that even normally cool, collected Scott had lost patience with her distraction and clumsiness.  She was sure he'd been on the verge of ordering her out at one point, before Jean had stepped in to calm him down.  For her part, the telepath had started giving her speculative looks about half way through the session, to the point where Kitty was really starting to hope **hard that the older girl was as committed to the 'telepathic code of ethics' the Professor espoused as she professed to be.  Poor Evan, on the other hand, had just looked plain confused - after the third time she'd phased through a projectile right in front of him, leaving the object in question to nail him, he'd refused to be paired with her "until she gets her shit together," as he bluntly put it.  Kitty sighed in frustration.  She couldn't really blame him; that last drone to the face had to have hurt.**

            She couldn't even really say why she'd been so nervous.  It wasn't as though she was _ashamed of what she'd done with Kurt, because, amazingly, she wasn't.  It was just that, really, it wasn't any one else's business.  Especially not now, when they hadn't even had a chance to really talk, to figure out what this meant for them or where they would go from here.  It was bad enough that Rogue and Mr. Logan knew.  She really didn't think anyone else had any valid interest in her sex life (not that the two of them did either, for that matter) and she didn't particularly feel like becoming the most recent victim of the infamous Institute gossip mill.  She could just **imagine what Bobby or Tabby would do with the information.  Besides, she had no illusions as to the Professor or Ms. Munroe's reaction if they found out.  They wouldn't be nearly so laid back as Mr. Logan had been, that's for sure.  It would probably involve lectures at best and something along the lines of room-mates, chaperones, and maybe even chastity belts at worst.  She shuddered at the thought and reached for her soap, realizing as she did that, while she had let her mind wander, her hands and feet had become wizened and prunish.  Grabbing her soap she began to rapidly scrub herself clean.**_

            She tried to not think about what kind of fallout there might be if the Professor found out about their...relationship.  Getting the third degree from Rogue this afternoon had been bad enough.  She didn't need the whole damn 'family' hounding her and Kurt - among other things, if anyone else found out they'd probably never get a chance to be alone again.  At least Rogue hadn't wanted details, she thought with a sigh.  In fact, the older girl had threatened her with everything short of death or dismemberment if she so much as _thought about anything even remotely explicit in her presence.  She had explained in no uncertain terms that she didn't want to know "that kind of shit" about her "little brother."  Kitty had actually laughed at that statement, earning herself a scathing glare from her ex-roommate.  It turned out that Rogue had primarily wanted to confirm her suspicion  that Kitty and Kurt had not only worked out their differences, but spent the night together as well - and to make sure that if they **had** engaged in any...activities...that they had used suitable protection.  For someone who went to such lengths to preserve her cynical loner image, the older girl certainly had the 'big sister' routine down pat - just so long as you kept in mind that it was the surly version._

            Rogue had also warned her to come up with a better alibi than 'sleeping in' if she was planning any similar exploits in the future, since if anyone else had bothered to check her room before lunch she would have been blown completely out of the water.  "And ya might try messin' up yer covers so it at least **looks** like ya slept there Kit."  Apparently when Rogue had stuck her head into Kitty's room to collect her for breakfast, the neatly folded blankets still sitting in a pile on the floor had been a dead give-away.  Fortunately for Kurt and Kitty, she had put two and two together and promptly decided to keep her mouth shut. 

            Kitty finished rinsing the last of the shampoo from her hair and turned off the water before stepping out and wrapping herself in her towel.  _My God, I can't believe how stupid I was and how lucky we were_! she thought in amazement.  It was probably nothing short of a miracle that no one had walked in on them at any point during the morning - although that miracle generally went by the name of Mr. Logan.  She absently finished drying herself off and then tossed her towel in the hamper in the corner before slipping into the clothes she'd brought with her, grabbing her bag, and heading back down the hall to her room, still thinking.  

            As a parting shot on their way to the Danger Room, Rogue had smirked as she'd told her, "ah knew you two were gonna figure it out and get it on eventually.  But ya know, it might not've hurt if you'd got him to dump his _old_ girlfriend _before_ you slept with him."  Kitty had felt as though her ears were going to spontaneously combust, she'd been so embarrassed.  She had completely forgotten about Amanda.  She'd been too caught up in her own little angst-fest to give Kurt's ostensible girlfriend so much as a moment's thought.  In her defense, though, Kurt didn't seem to have wasted any time worrying about her either.  Her stomach did a slow turn now as she considered the very real possibility that the other girl had been the one to teach Kurt some of the more...interesting...things he'd done with her - to her - earlier and, for some reason she couldn't quite explain, she desperately hoped not.  

            Thinking about it, there were so many things that she simply didn't know about Kurt, and quite honestly, some of them were beginning to make her more than a little concerned for him.  He knew almost everything there was to know about her, and yet, somehow, she knew so little about him.  He did a real good impression of being totally open, and yet still managed to give almost nothing away beyond the absolute basics.  Why was he so upset when she touched his tail - or even came close?  She was **sure** that he'd been turned on, **really** turned on, when she'd done it unwittingly last week.  At the time she had thought that _that_ had been the problem and she hadn't really given it any further thought, other than to beat herself up over throwing herself at him.  Last night, though, that shouldn't have been a concern and yet he'd been angry, really angry, when she'd made as if to touch it again.  He'd covered the fact quickly, but not fast enough to keep her from seeing it in his eyes and hearing it in his voice.  Really, though, she was almost as worried by the simple fact that he had been plastered last night.  Where and when had that happened, and why?  And just how _had he become so...experienced?  _Please let it not be with Amanda,_ she thought again, irrationally.  She'd almost mentioned her concerns to Rogue this afternoon, but it had felt like too much of a betrayal, going behind his back, even if it was for help.  She somehow didn't think he'd appreciate anyone, even Rogue, knowing about the whole tail thing._

            He knew everything about her, from her childhood fears to her first kiss and her first crush.  Her favorite pet to the details of her break-up with Lance, and now her concerns over her family.  He, on the other hand, could talk a blue streak about anything and everything while never giving up an iota of truly personal information.  He had opinions on movies, music, the current political climate at home and abroad, even about how she should do her hair or what color she should paint her nails.  His past, however, beyond the minimal basics of farm and circus life, was a closed book.

            Kitty remembered cajoling him into joining everyone for a game of truth or dare once, not long before the Sentinel incident had turned their world inside out and upside down.  She had been convinced that Kurt, with his combined love for practical jokes and embarrassing his team-mates, would have been one of the most enthusiastic participants.  Instead, getting him to play at all had been painfully reminiscent of pulling teeth - though that **was better than Scott, who had flat out refused to join the game.  In the end, she knew Kurt had only grudgingly consented to play, and only as a personal concession to her and her desire to engage in a 'team building experience'.  It had seemed, to her and Jubilee at least, like a perfect way for new and old mutants to get to know each other better. **

            Kurt never had gotten into the spirit of the evening though.  Any question of an even remotely personal nature was simply avoided by taking a dare.  Finally, in exasperation at Kurt's stubborn refusal to even reveal the name of the first girl he'd ever kissed, Evan had dared him to kiss Mr. Logan.  Kitty had jumped to his defense, pointing out that they had all agreed that no potentially life-threatening dares were allowed (as well as no truly risque ones in deference to Jamie's presence).  She'd promptly been shouted down by a room-full of bored teen-agers eager to see at least a _little blood shed.  Kurt had simply sat through the uproar and then, when it quieted down, raised one eyebrow at Evan, smirked and left the room.  He had been closely trailed by everyone else.  As Sam had put it, "someone needs ta be there ta mop up the blood, eh?"_

            None of them had been brave enough to follow him past the corner at the end of the hall from Mr. Logan's room, though.  Instead, they had jockeyed for position and peered round the corner in nervous excitement as Kurt had stepped up to the door and knocked once.  The only sign that he might have been nervous had been the way his tail had lashed in agitation, cutting the air like a whip as he waited.

            When Mr. Logan had come to the door everyone had held their breath, trying vainly to hear as Kurt spoke quietly to the older man.  They had waited for the explosion as Logan's expression had gone from simple irritation to angry surprise to something entirely unreadable.  Finally he had crossed his arms over his chest and leaned out to glare down the hall and snarl menacingly at them and they had all tried to scramble out of sight around the corner as quickly as possible.  Not even Rahne had been able to hear what he'd said over the babble everyone was making - the most notable comments being "shit, he's gonna kill the fuzzball," followed closely by, "no shit man, but he's gonna gut us next."  However, when no explosion was immediately forthcoming they had all poked their heads cautiously back around the corner.  Just in time to see Mr. Logan staring disgustedly at the ceiling as Kurt leaned in and planted a quick kiss on his bristly cheek.

            Kurt had spat and then wiped his lips melodramatically on his sleeve, earning a staggering smack in the chest from the older man for his performance.  The furry blue teen had then looked down the hall and burst into laughter at the assorted looks of disbelief and amazement plastered over the other kids' faces.  After a moment Mr. Logan had joined him - and if that hadn't been weird, Kitty didn't know what was.  The two had exchanged a few more quiet words and then Kurt had turned and trotted back down the hall.  To Kitty's (and everyone else's) surprise, he had simply informed them that he was done with truth or dare - for the night and forever - and attempted to slip off to his room with no further comment.

            "Hey, wait a minute Fuzzball," Bobby had called after him.  "What did short, dark and hairy say to you?"

            Kurt had turned and regarded the younger boy seriously for a long moment before breaking into one of his trade-mark grins.  "_Herr Logan said that the next time you 'children' feel like daring someone to kiss him, it had better be one of the girls," and his gaze had passed over each of them in turn, his smile growing progressively wider.  "And, it had better involve some tongue."  _

            He'd broken down in laughter again at the shocked and outraged looks on all their faces before adding, almost as an after thought, "oh, but Bobby, he said he might make an exception in your case."  The younger boy had gone wide-eyed.  "He's not usually into guys, but you _are kind of pretty."  Bobby had looked as though he might sick up on the spot as __everyone had exploded with laughter then.  Kurt simply 'bamfed' away, leaving the rest of them in the hall, wiping tears of laughter from their eyes, until they noticed Mr. Logan still standing  at his door glaring at them and scurried away.           _

            Needless to say, that had been the end of that particular game, as well as the last time any of them had bothered to play truth or dare.  The general consensus had been that it was much safer to stick to board games in future - even if it did get irritating having Kurt or Jean routinely whip their butts at everything from Trivial Pursuit to Scrabble.  Ray's take on the situation was that it was just plain humiliating to lose a word game to someone who spoke English as a second language and, honestly, sometimes Kitty was inclined to agree.

            Kitty smiled at the memory before abruptly realizing that, at some point, she had actually made it back to her room and was standing staring blankly out the window.  _Damn, I have **got** to get over this daydreaming nonsense, she told herself with a shake to clear her head.  __I wonder, is this what being in love does to you?  I don't think I was ever this ditzy over Lance."_

            She dropped her bathroom supplies in the corner by her duffel, thinking longingly of the furniture which was scheduled to arrive Monday, as well as wishing, for neither the first time nor the last, that she had her _own bathroom.  Amara and Bobby had tried to convince the Professor to give every room a private bath during the rebuilding, but all of their arguments had been met with polite explanations of budgets and available space.  They had then protested the unfairness that gave Scott, Jean and Kurt en suites, while all the other students had to share communal bathrooms.  That had led to more polite explanations regarding seniority and the fact that those three had been given their rooms before the Professor had foreseen the necessity of housing quite so many young mutants in his home.  As the house had been rebuilt almost entirely to the original plan - with only the addition of boys' and girls' bathrooms on each floor - he had elected to return everyone to their original rooms.  In the end they had wasted a lot of time arguing and nothing had changed.  _

            Privately, Kitty was of the opinion that there had originally been more behind the room assignments than the Professor ever revealed to anyone.  She was pretty sure that no one was going to tell her what the real reasons were, though.  She was equally certain that it had _something_ to do with the fact that, before the mansion's destruction, those three rooms, plus Mr. Logan's, had been the only fully sound-proofed bedrooms in the entire place.

            She checked her watch: 6:00, confirming her suspicion that dinner should be arriving soon.  Tonight was Chinese take-out, to be picked up by Sam, since no one in town would deliver to "that mutie place" now that they were known.  She should still have at least half an hour before it arrived, though, and a good fifteen minutes beyond that before it was pillaged beyond any reasonable possibility of making a meal out of what was left.  

            With one last sigh for her bare room, she trotted out the door and headed for the boys' hall.  She knew she was rationalizing when she told herself that she just wanted to check and see if Kurt was okay, if he was coming down for dinner or wanted something brought up, but she didn't really care.  Besides, she really _should_ tell him that Rogue and Mr. Logan were privy to their secret before one of them blind-sided him with the information.  _Yep, just gonna check on him and give him an update, she told herself cheerfully as she positively bounced down the hall, a giant grin plastered on her unusually flushed face._

            Kurt stood in front of his bathroom vanity, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, as he scrubbed energetically at his hair with another.  Once he'd finished that, he tossed the towel in a corner and ran his fingers gingerly along the tender area on the left side of his chest and abdomen, carefully checking each rib as he went.  There were plenty of other aches and pains, but that was by far the worst.  _Amazing how that didn't hurt earlier, he though with a grimace as he hit a particularly sensitive spot.  _Gotta love those endorphins.  __

            He doubtless had one hell of a bruise under the fur, but as he'd expected, that appeared to be the worst of it.  Now that he thought on it, he vaguely recalled Logan checking the spot the previous night, after his shower, and declaring it to be nothing serious.  The older man had certainly known exactly what he was doing - no surprise there.  He'd run Kurt until he was two heartbeats from dropping like a rock and abused him in almost every conceivable, non-lethal way, but had made absolutely sure that he suffered no serious harm.

            He was still tender in a number of places from the drubbing Logan had administered, but the shower had taken care of a huge amount of his residual stiffness, and his accelerated metabolism would probably deal with most of the rest before tomorrow morning.  He flashed glittering fangs in a quick grin as he reflected on the considerable advantages of having a hellishly fast metabolism, a smile that only faded slightly as his stomach reminded him pointedly of one of the disadvantages.  

            He felt decidedly more human now, the irony of which was not lost on him.  He glanced briefly at the blue-furred, demonic visage in the mirror with a sigh, then dropped his towels in the corner and headed out to scrounge through his duffel for clean clothes.  One entire side of the bag was taken up by his uniforms - he had more of the damn things than anyone else, due to the necessity of wearing one to school under his holo every day.  It was almost funny that one of the few things he had **really** looked forward to about leaving the circus had been the idea of leaving spandex behind forever.  

            _So much for wishful thinking, but spandex and fur just do **not** mix happily, he thought with disgust as he pushed the pile of uniforms aside and dug out a pair of cargo pants and a tank top.  Shorts would have been nice but he preferred not to have his misshapen legs on public display, and most jeans were out of the question as they weren't loose enough to accommodate the aforementioned legs.  Between the fur and his metabolism, it was almost always just a **little too warm for him indoors, but the tank top was as far as he was willing to go in the conflict between comfort and concealment.**_

            After dressing, he dug one of his holo watches out of its case in the side pocket of his duffel and then flowed smoothly to his feet, ignoring the slight protests of over-taxed muscles and joints as he did so.  He strapped the chunky black watch on and then stretched, feeling the slight, satisfying pops all down his spine as his vertebrae realigned themselves and then stopped, frozen in mid-stretch, as his eyes alighted on the rumpled heap of blankets that had served as his bed, their bed, last night.  He had managed, quite successfully, to keep his mind mostly off of...that...for the last forty-five minutes or so, but the large, rusty brown stain on the center of one light gray blanket effectively put an end to that.  He pressed his eyes shut as he fought a sudden, almost overwhelming, urge to bolt, to just get away.  

            _So much blood.  I didn't realize there was so much blood...   After a brief moment to steady himself he took a deep, shuddering breath and, opening his eyes, he quickly stepped over and used one foot to wad the blanket up, concealing the offending stain.  At least now he didn't have to look at the evidence of his...transgression.  Although at close quarters the smell was more than sufficient to remind him that it was there.  With a grimace of distaste he also scooped up the used condoms littering the floor in the same general vicinity and then concealed them at the bottom of his bathroom trash - under half a roll of toilet paper.  He ran both hands roughly through his still damp hair in a nervous gesture, then bent with a sigh and dug his rosary out of the pocket of the pants he'd worn last night.  Lightly fingering the smooth beads, he headed out to his 'thinking spot' on the balcony, pulling the door almost closed behind him.  He certainly had plenty to think about._

            He leapt lightly up to crouch on the rail, and let his hands dangle limply between his knees.  His only movement was the restless flicking of his tail and the soothing glide of his fingers across the smooth beads of his rosary as he tried to gather his thoughts.  It was one of his most precious possessions and one of the only things he owned which had survived the destruction of the mansion - due entirely to the fact that he kept it with him always.  Just the feel of the worn beads slipping through his fingers could almost always bring him at least a measure of peace.  Tonight, though, it was not the peace of prayer that he sought, but something different.  

            He knew what the Church would say to what he'd done with Kitty and no amount of prayer would change it.  It was fornication and a sin.  The only acceptable option was to confess, repent and resolve to sin no more.  God knows, he'd had enough experience with the formula, and, honestly, he'd never had any real problem with repentance before - or even with the go and sin no more bit.  He may not have **succeeded too well with the latter, but he'd always at least left the confessional box with the intention of staying on the straight and narrow thereafter.  Could he help it if temptation had an unsettling habit of flinging itself bodily at him and refusing to let go until he gave in?  He dropped his head in shame as memories came flooding back, memories he'd prefer to forget entirely, especially now.  He didn't even want to think of...those times...now, didn't want to associate them in even the most tangential way with what he'd shared with Kitty.  That ****had been fornication, pure and simple, with no love lost on either side.  He hadn't been proud of it then and was even less so now.  There could be no comparison between... that...and, well....**

            His thoughts trailed off as he clenched his fist tightly around the rosary in his hand, the beads digging into his palm.  His golden eyes were almost glassy as he gazed blankly across the grounds to where the waters of the bay shimmered in the evening light.  Whatever the Church might call it, he just could not think of making love to Kitty, his best friend, his...love...as fornication, as a sin.  Nor did he think that he could bring himself to repent of it.  More worrisome by far, as he poked gingerly at his conscience, was the realization that he wasn't sure he could resolve to sin no more - worse yet, he didn't even really want to try.  It had felt too good and too...right...to be with her and she had seemed to feel the same.  

            He wasn't quite sure when or how his feelings for Kitty had changed, but he knew for certain that what he felt for her was not what one felt for a 'best friend', nor was it simple lust.  It was something much more...profound...and the realization frightened him more than a little.  He knew how to deal with a friend.  He knew how to deal with a...a fuck buddy, for lack of a better term.  He had absolutely no idea how to deal with a sexual relationship with someone he actually cared about and who apparently cared for him.

            His tail was lashing in agitation as a wave of uncertainty washed over him.  _How could she care for you_? came the nagging little voice that haunted the darkest corners of his soul.  _How could anyone love a freak like you?  He screwed his eyes shut as the acid commentary ate away at what little was left of the fragile peace he'd felt on waking.  __You're a freak.  An...experiment...just like before...just like always...  She didn't want **you**, she just wanted to see what if felt like to do an animal.  He didn't even realize he was shaking, didn't feel sharp edges of the cross on his rosary draw blood as his fist tightened convulsively, didn't feel the pain as his lashing tail struck the stone balcony rail like a cracking whip.  _

            _No.  NO!  His head dropped to his chest and his jaw clenched tight in determination as he ruthlessly squashed the bitter voice of paranoia trying to overwhelm him.  He forced himself to remember Kitty's words this morning, the look in her eyes as she'd told him she loved him, and a convulsive shudder ran down his spine.  She had looked so small and lost and he had clearly seen the uncertainty in her eyes.  Uncertainty and the fear that she had said too much, that he would reject her.  His hands relaxed and he took a few deep, ragged breaths as he pushed the last of his fear back into the dark recesses it had sprung from.  It hadn't been curiosity, or a desire to 'do the freak' that had made Kitty seek him out last night.  Incredible as it might seem, she had wanted **him**, Kurt Wagner, neither because of his...peculiarities...nor despite them.  Not because of **what he was, but because of **who** he was.  He felt the first faint rumble of a purr beginning deep in his chest as he actually let himself ****believe that, at least for the moment.  Because he knew, in his heart, that it was true.  **_

            Opening his hand he ran his fingers lightly over the beads there and his lips quirked up in a melancholy smile as he lightly stroked a small, gold hoop clasped just above the tiny, hand carved cross at their center.  Carefully, he unhooked the object and let it rest in his palm, its mellow gold a close match for the gleam of his eyes and a stark contrast to the dark blue skin of his hand.  He gazed at it for a moment longer, then, coming to a decision, he tucked the rosary carefully into a pocket of his pants.  Taking the hoop carefully between two thick fingers, he closed his eyes, remembering.... 

            _Two young boys, a piece of ice, half a potato and a pilfered sewing needle out behind the goldsmith's caravan on a hot August afternoon.  A stab of pain, breath hissing through clenched teeth and a brief flash as dark fingers nimbly replaced steel with smooth, cool gold.  He'd been eight years old, and he'd made his very first, and best, friend..._

            "You always did say that I would find someone Stefan," he whispered, his voice thick and melancholy as his smile.  "Someone who could see past this...," he gestured unconsciously at himself, "to what was inside.  I thought you were crazy, mein Bruder, but perhaps...perhaps you were right."  

            Reaching up he fumbled briefly at the lobe of his left ear, trying to find a hole last used, what, was it 3 months ago...or four?  He couldn't remember now.  It had been years since he'd worn it more than the absolute minimum necessary to keep the hole open.  Years since he'd felt he had the right to.  

            Finally, after an endless moment of frustration, the slender hoop slipped smoothly into place and he fastened the clasp to hold it secure.  It had never been meant to be removed.  His hand still lingered at his ear, fingers lightly stroking the smooth circle of gold, reacquainting themselves with its familiar, yet alien, presence.  Finally, he let his hand drop, his arms again resting lightly across his knees as he looked out on the tranquil waters of the bay.  "Ja, perhaps you were right...." His voice was no longer quite so melancholy as before and the faint bass rumble of his purr began again.

            He was so preoccupied that he didn't hear the soft tread of light footsteps across his room, didn't realize that he was no longer alone until a small hand, followed by a smooth cheek, came to rest lightly on his shoulder.  

Kitty paused in the hall outside Kurt's door, hand poised to knock, before she reconsidered and let it drop.  Smiling, she looked up and down the hallway, confirming that she had no witnesses, before slipping wraith-like through the door and into the room beyond.  She stopped just inside, blinking slowly as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of an early spring evening.  Her first thought on seeing the darkened room was that he'd already left for dinner, and her face fell in disappointment before she remembered that, left to himself, Kurt rarely bothered to turn on a light.  She looked around the empty room, flushing as her gaze slid across the rumpled blankets where they'd lain last night and this morning.  The bathroom door was ajar, and while the absence of light meant nothing, the lack of sound or movement indicated that room, too, was empty.  She heaved a sigh of disappointment as she glanced up at the huge chandelier in the center of the room, half-hoping to find Kurt hanging from the ridiculously ornate fixture and laughing at her uncertainty.  She was irrationally disappointed at the thought that he might have gone down to dinner without her.

            The smile faded from her face and her shoulders slumped as she turned to leave the room, noticing, as she did so, a faint breeze leaking in through the French doors, which were just slightly ajar.  She couldn't say why she didn't just call out for him, any more than she could really explain why she hadn't just knocked in the first place.  She ghosted silently to the door and peered out into the gathering dusk, a slow smile touching her lips as she saw Kurt crouching comfortably in 'his' spot on the balcony rail.  There had been a time when seeing him in that pose would have unsettled her at best, when seeing him at all had served only to drive home just how far removed she now was from all things 'normal'.  Now...Now she stood silently in the shadows of his room and watched as the breeze pushed still damp tendrils of indigo hair back from the velvet planes of his face, while his tail curled and swayed lazily behind him.  The sight of him took her breath away, she wanted him so much.  Wanted to touch him and hold him,  to feel his arms around her and the indescribable soft brush of his fur against her...everywhere.  She closed her eyes with a gasp at the flood of images and sensations, uncomfortably aware of the heat suffusing her body.

            She knew, intellectually, that she was supposed to feel guilty about what had happened.  About what they...she...had done.  Her parents would doubtless be crushed if they knew.  She'd had 'the talk' with her mother years ago, and a repeat of it before leaving to come to the Institute, and Terri Pryde had placed great emphasis on the importance of her little girl 'saving herself' for marriage.  There had been bits about free milk and cows thrown in there somewhere too, but Kitty couldn't be bothered to bring them to mind at the moment.  She had little doubt that the Professor and Ms. Munroe would probably be very...disappointed...in them as well if...when...they found out.  Despite all this, she simply couldn't manage to dredge up the requisite guilt or shame.  It had felt good and...right...and she knew, without any doubt whatsoever, that Kurt would **never hurt her.  Maybe if it had been just _sex, a meaningless fling for no purpose other than simple, physical gratification, she could have felt that way.  But it hadn't been....  Had it?  _No_!  _**

            Letting her eyes slip open again she raised her hand to the door and was on the verge of calling out Kurt's name when his head turned as he examined something in his hands.  She caught a brief glimpse of his face, his lips curled up in a slight smile that made it nowhere near his eyes.  She froze, unable or unwilling to intrude upon his solitude - she wasn't quite sure which.

            She watched the graceful shift and slide of sleek muscles beneath velvet fur as he fiddled briefly with whatever he held, then caught her breath in surprise as he lifted a slender golden hoop and, after a moment's fumbling, slipped it into place in his left ear.  Now that was news.  She couldn't move, couldn't take her eyes off the mellow gleam of gold, noting how sharply it contrasted with the deep, rich indigo of his fur, and how similar it was to the subdued glow of his eyes in the evening light.  _How much more, she wondered, __don't I know?_

            His fingers lingered for a long moment, stroking almost tentatively at the tiny hoop, before he dropped his hand to hang limply between his knees in his usual, loose-limbed pose.  He was looking out on the bay again, and Kitty could no longer see his face to tell if it still bore the uncharacteristic look of melancholy that had stopped her just a moment before.

            Taking a deep breath, she slipped quietly through the doors and laid first her hand, and then her cheek on one warm, velveteen shoulder.  She smiled in surprise at the unexpected rumble of his purr as well as the delicious sensation of his skin shivering and sliding over iron-hard muscles at her touch. 

            "Hey Fuzzy.  Penny for your thoughts?" she asked, her voice soft and almost hesitant.  She hoped for, but didn't really expect, an answer.

            Warm golden eyes, almost the exact tone of the gleaming hoop in his ear, turned to regard her and he returned her smile with one of his own.

            "Guten Abend, Kaetzchen," he answered her, his light tenor voice as warm and mellow as the purr that vibrated through his words as he spoke.

            He'd almost jumped at her hand on his shoulder, before her voice and the...quality...of the touch had registered on his distracted mind.  His purr stuttered for a moment before he recovered and then, if anything, turned up a notch as he settled into her touch.  He had to resist the urge to reach up and cover, or remove, the hoop in his ear, instead turning his head slightly and shifting his attention to her question.  With any luck she hadn't noticed.

            "I was just...thinking on a friend Liebe...a good friend and some words he once spoke...."  His voice trailed away and his smile shifted toward melancholy again as he reached up to gently trace the line of her jaw with one rough finger.  She shivered slightly and leaned into his hand, trying to think of something to distract him from whatever shadowed paths his thoughts were taking.

            Reaching up, she put one finger tip to the slender hoop in his ear and asked, with a smile, "Why haven't I seen this before Fuzzy?  It's beautiful."

            He flinched slightly away from the touch and tried, belatedly, to conceal the fact by reaching up to push his hair back from his face.

            "Ach, that?  You haven't seen it because I don't wear it.  Not anymore..."  and he reached up to finger it lightly once more, closing his eyes briefly against the memory of clear blue eyes raised to his in confusion and pain.  "Don't ask, Liebe.  Please...don't ask."

            "But why Kurt?  It's actually pretty darn sexy," and she snuggled closer to him, her cheek still resting against his shoulder as she slipped her arms around his waist.  She paused then, and, cocking her head questioningly, looked up at him in concern.  "You didn't stop wearing it because of us, did you?  Because of coming here?  You didn't think it would bother anyone?"

            He blinked at her in confusion for a moment, the speed of her questions and her obvious concern taking him by surprise.  "Nein Kaetzchen," he finally managed to interject.  "No, it was nothing like that," and he smiled reassuringly at her - a smile he willed, with only limited success, to reach his eyes.  "I stopped wearing it long ago, long before I ever knew of this place.  I just," he paused, his fangs catching lightly at his upper lip, before he continued in a rush, "just slip it in...occasionally.  To, to make sure that the hole doesn't close over, ja?"

            He then reached up and quickly unfastened it, pulling it deftly out and slipping it into his pocket before she had a chance to question or protest his action.  "No threat of that, though, so it can go away again..." and he grinned at her, his fangs gleaming dully and his eyes glowing in the fading light.

            She wanted to ask more, wanted to know what caused the shadow of pain that flickered briefly across his face before it was replaced with his trademark grin.  A grin, she was coming to realize, that was as often as not a mask over pain.  She almost did ask, almost pushed where he obviously didn't want to go.  Damn it!  Why couldn't he trust her...  But the peace that they'd found this morning was still too tenuous, too fragile, to risk shattering it with probing questions.  She sucked in a sharp breath and looked away to hide the disappointment in her eyes.  It could wait for now.  She'd just add it to her rapidly expanding list of 'things to ask Kurt when the time is right' - if it ever was.

            Instead, she turned back to him and returned his rather forced smile with one of her own, not too strained she hoped.  "We've been found out" she told him, trying to keep her voice light.  "Your sister gave me the third degree this afternoon, but on the plus side, Mr. Logan doesn't seem to care."  The look of slack-jawed surprise on his face was suitably gratifying and she didn't even bother trying to suppress the giggle it evoked.

            Once he managed to pick his chin up off his chest and she stopped laughing she explained the events of her afternoon in great depth, elaborating on Scott's 'dunking' at lunch and taking a certain amount of 'artistic' license when describing her encounter with Logan as well as Rogue's 'interrogation' after lunch .  By the time she finished with her 'escape' from the Danger Room there was no hint of shadow left in his eyes and he was laughing so hard he was almost in tears.  That alone was worth any minor embarrassment the retelling may have caused her.

            She had never let her arms stray from where they wrapped loosely 'round his hips.  At some point he had turned within their circle and now she leaned her head on his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart as his laughter slowly died to be replaced with the low, thrumming rumble of his purr.  

            _Weird, she thought.  _Weird...but nice.  That won't take too much getting used to at all...__

            Kurt let his head drop so that his cheek rested lightly atop her head as he shifted one hand up to run his fingers through her still damp hair.  He wished she'd wear it down more often.  She smelled fresh and, as always, vaguely fruity from whatever bath products she had used.  Beneath it all, though, he could just catch the warm, slightly musky smell that was just **her.**

            The moment was so perfect, so...comfortable...that he hated to spoil it with further conversation.  But some things **had to be discussed before they descended into the chaos that was daily life among a dozen plus mutants.  It was a long moment before he could nerve himself to speak, a long moment during which he tightened his arms around her as his purr slowly stuttered and then died.  **

            "So Kaetzchen," he started, his voice soft and uncertain.  "What do we do now?"  He felt her tense slightly against him, before pulling back so that she could look him in the eye.

            "What do we do now about what, Fuzzy?" she asked, sounding more than a little concerned and surprised by his question.

            "Well, Liebe.  What do we do about...us?"  He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled the sweet fragrance of her hair and skin, trying to steady himself.  "Are we...well, are we a, a couple?  Should we be?"

            She stiffened in his arms and pulled back a little farther.  "Don't you, don't you **want to be?" she asked him, her voice wavering into a higher register at the end.  "I mean...well...it's just..."  Her lower lip was trembling and he could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes as he jumped frantically into yet another verbal minefield.**

            "No!  I mean yes!  Kaetzchen, I...I would like very much to be...with you, that way.  I meant it this morning when I told you I love you, but if you wish for only the love of a friend, then that is always yours for the asking.  I do not want to...to pressure you...just because..." his voice trailed off uncertainly as he looked down into angry blue eyes.

            "Kurt Wagner, will you get it through your thick skull that you have done nothing to put any pressure on me.  Nothing whatsoever!"  She was positively glowering at him now, and he found himself thinking, quite incongruously, that she was adorable when she was angry.  Only a very healthy sense of self-preservation kept him from making the observation aloud. "What on earth do I have to do to prove to you that everything that happened, last night and this morning, happened **because I wanted it and **because I love you**?" **

            She snorted in exasperation, and her expression softened somewhat.  "Why is it so hard for you to believe that I could love you?" she continued.  Suddenly she grinned wickedly at him and her arms, which had still been draped around his hips, slipped up to settle around his neck instead.  "Would you get the picture if I tied you down and had my way with you?"

            He couldn't suppress his answering grin, and his own response popped out before he could engage the higher functions of his brain.  "Well it certainly wouldn't hurt to try and find out, ja?"  

            Suddenly her grip tightened and he was being pulled down.  Down to those soft, pink lips and the heady aroma of strawberries.  He let his eyes slip shut as their lips met, concentrating on the feel of her in his arms, the taste of her against his mouth, the musky sweet scent that was just her, beneath the artificial smells of shampoo, soap and lip gloss.  

            She tangled her fingers gently in the long hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him closer still, her lips parting for him as his tongue swept out to gently beg entrance.  His breath caught in his throat with a low moan and he tightened his grip on her, simultaneously letting one hand drift down to stroke her bottom and pull her against him.  He could actually **feel all capacity for rational thought seeping rapidly from his brain and had to struggle against the urge to turn and press her to the balcony rail, to strip her and take her right there.  **

            _And when the hell did being a gentleman go flying out the window?  Oh, right,  last night...and this morning...  Okay then._

            It was the reaalization of just where they were, standing out on his balcony in full view of God and anyone else who might just happen to look up, that brought him at least partially to his senses.  He pulled back slightly and pressed his lips gently to her temples, her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, while moving his hands up to stroke lightly at her hair.

            "Not, perhaps, the best...time...or place for this, meine Liebe," he gasped, settling finally to nuzzle his cheek into the still damp hair at her temple.  She made a soft sound that wasn't quite a protest and settled her cheek against his chest, apparently agreeing.  This position was not really less incriminating, but it was somewhat better, in Kurt's view, than being caught 'sucking face'.  He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, just savoring her presence.  The feel of her pressed up against him, her arms draped loosely around his waist again, the soft tickle of her hair against his cheek and the smell of her...oh, the smell of her.  He had absolutely no desire to be anywhere but here, doing anything but this....  Unfortunately, it was time to nerve himself to broach yet another uncomfortable subject.

            "Kaetzchen?"  His face screwed up in trepidation pain as he spoke.

            "Hmmm, Fuzzy?"  She sounded so content and her arms tightened just slightly around his waist, one hand drifting to stroke gently at his backside.

            "Well, Liebe...it's just that...  Technically, I haven't broken up with Amanda and, well..."  She'd frozen against him and he could feel the tension in her body.  He hated bringing this up, hated the feeling that he had 'cheated' on the other girl.  He may have felt that the relationship was over, but she obviously didn't feel the same and he had not, really, said or done anything that could qualify as actually breaking up with her.  

            He may not like her attitude, but the fact remained that she was, basically, a good person.  He knew she was not **intentionally using him, knew that she honestly **thought** she loved him.  As angry as he'd become with her attitude towards his mutation, he couldn't bring himself to dislike her or wish her any ill.  "Kaetzchen, I just...well...would you mind keeping this...private...until after I get a chance to...to break up with her on Monday?  It's just that...well...I don't want to be with her anymore but...but I don't want to hurt her either.  Do you understand, Liebe?"**

            She was silent for a long moment and he began to worry that she was angry with him.  He briefly wished for senses as acute as Logan's so that he could smell out emotions as reliably as the older man.  

            "It's okay Kurt.  I understand." she finally answered and she sighed and relaxed into his arms.  "It wouldn't be very fair, or nice, to do anything else, would it?  Besides," she continued, her voice thoughtful.  "I was thinking,"

            "Did it hurt much Liebe," he interrupted with a grin.

            "Oh, stuff it Fuzzy," and she smacked him lightly on the rump.  "As I was saying, before you **so rudely interrupted.  I was thinking that...maybe...it might be a good idea if we...well, if we kept this...us...kind of...private?  Just for a while, maybe?"  Her voice became less confident with each word she spoke.  "It's not that I don't...you know...**want** people to know," she told him quickly, obviously fearing his reaction to her suggestion.  "It's just that...well...I don't know if I, like, want to be grist for the gossip mill just yet...if you can understand.  And, well, you know how...everyone...us included...hounds Scott and Jean?  They, like, hardly ever get a moment alone.  So I thought that...if we just...kind of, you know, go on like before...well, then...everyone would, like, leave us alone and...Oh, I don't know what I'm saying!  I'm sorry Kurt."  Kitty flopped her head down, her forehead bouncing lightly off his sternum as she gave up in frustration.**

            He tilted her chin up gently with one hand, forcing her to meet his steady amber gaze.  He smiled reassuringly at her and stroked her silky cheek with one large thumb as he told her, "I understand perfectly, Liebe, and I agree.  The longer we can avoid becoming public knowledge the better.  Life will be much easier, and," he grinned, "**much** more fun, if we don't have to constantly watch our backs for voyeurs or pranksters."  His grin turned suggestive as he bent to kiss her, their tongues immediately twining as he pulled her to him again, all thoughts of Amanda completely banished from his mind as he lost himself in the warmth of her embrace.  

            To his consternation, his stomach chose that moment to vocally remind him that he'd pushed himself too hard and eaten too little in the last twenty-four hours.  Screw the benefits, sometimes an accelerated metabolism was an unadulterated pain in the ass!

            Kitty pulled slightly away and looked up at him, her eyes dancing, and he gave her a lopsided grin.  "I think it's trying to tell us something, eh Liebe?"

            "Yeah.  It's telling us to get our backsides downstairs before all the food's gone Fuzzy.  And it's a good thing your stomach decided to speak up for itself or we probably would've ended up having to scrounge something out of the pantry.  As it is," she glanced at her watch, "dinner probably just got here.  If we get down there fast there you should still be able to throw yourself on enough pork fried rice and sweet and sour chicken to keep body and soul together for a little while longer at least."

            "Pork fried rice?  No one told me we were getting Chinese!  What are we waiting for?"  Grinning devilishly at her, he wrapped his arms loosely around her shoulders, dropped a light kiss on top of her head, and with a 'bamf' they were gone.

***************************************************

Oooh, big surprise, another chapter with way too much internal monologue.  So, you think anything's ever going to actually _happen in this story?  _

Make my month (believe me, I need it) leave me a review.  Good, bad, indifferent.   Whatever....


	16. Confrontations

Don't own any of the characters, just the story.  I only **wish they were mine.**

CONFRONTATIONS

            Kurt slumped bonelessly into a seat between Evan and Rogue and dropped his over-loaded lunch tray on the table in front of him with a sigh.  He automatically scanned the crowded room for any sign of Kitty as he started to dig into the day's mystery entree.

            "Rough mornin' Fuzzball?" Rogue asked with a snort.

            "Ja, you could say that," he answered with a weary smile before his expression darkened into a frown.  "I broke up with Amanda this morning."

            "YES!  Finally!  Kurt tried to ignore Evan as the younger boy crowed in triumph and pumped his fist enthusiastically in the air.  Something that became more difficult as Evan slapped him on the back in congratulations.  "Way to go 'Crawler!"  

            He caught Jean's sympathetic look, but also noticed her total lack of surprise at his announcement.  It really didn't do his pride any good to know that almost everyone had realized he was committing romantic suicide long before he had reached the same conclusion.  Well, almost everyone.

            "Ouch.  What happened Kurt?  I thought you two were good."  Scott looked genuinely puzzled, and it cheered Kurt somewhat to realize that _someone_ at least was more clueless than he was.

            "Um, it just wasn't working out.  I'd really rather not talk about it," he mumbled at his tray, simultaneously shifting his attention to the double order of criminally greasy fries thereon.

            "Yeouch!  What the heck was that for?" Evan yelped.

            Judging from Jean's furious glare and Evan's surreptitious rubbing of his shin, she must have kicked him under the table.

            "You could be a bit more supportive," she hissed at him, still glaring.

            "What do you mean?  I _am being supportive.  Jeez!  Weren't you listening?  _He_ broke up with _her_," and he snorted disdainfully.  "A celebration is in order.  K-man was the dumper, not the dumpee."  Kurt rolled his eyes at his friend's gleeful smirk as Evan elbowed him sharply in the ribs.  "Not like it wasn't about time man.  Now we've just got to find you a hot prospect.  Ya gotta have a rebound."_

            Kurt nearly choked on his soda at that comment, and the speculative look Jean was giving him didn't help his recovery in the least.

            "How about Tabby, man?  You know she is still totally hot for you.  She'll probably be all over you like ugly on an ape as soon as she finds out you're on the outs with Amanda."

            "This from he who shall remain perpetually dateless," Rogue drawled sarcastically.

            "Um, nein, that's okay Evan.  I'm, uh, not really interested in 'looking' right now.  And I'd appreciate if you didn't go advertising my _availability to Tabby - or anyone else for that matter."  Jean was eyeing him more closely, and he just hoped he wasn't projecting too much.  She might not snoop, but she wasn't above capitalizing on anything you happened to lob her way when she was 'listening'.  Kurt routinely thanked God for the Professor's training combined with relatively strong natural shields.  He wanted his private life to stay private, thankyouverymuch.    _

            "C'mon Kurt.  Back in the saddle and all that crap, y'know?"  Evan was smirking like crazy and Kurt really just wanted to sink through the floor.  He wondered miserably just how long it was going to be before the younger boy gave in to temptation and sicced Tabby on him.

            "I'm missing something here, aren't I?"  If anything, Scott looked even more confused then before.  Kurt sighed, valiantly resisting the urge to drop his head onto the table.  _Just shoot me now, bitte.  Three...two...one...and..._

            "What planet have you been living on man?  Amanda's only interested in the 'Crawler 'cause she's got some majorly weird freak fetish going on...."

            Evan cut off with another yelp just as Kurt surged up from the table, his face as expressionless as he could manage.  "Excuse me, I've got to finish some...biology homework."  He was headed for the door without waiting for a response, moving as quickly as he could to outdistance the conversation.

            "Yeowch!  What the hell was that for?  Yeow - shit!  Not you too Rogue.  What the hell..."

            Kurt almost smiled as Evan's complaints were finally lost in the background noise of the crowded cafeteria.  Not quite, but almost...

            There were only fifteen minutes left of lunch period when Kitty poked her head cautiously around the corner of the library's reference section.  This was her last stop, she'd already tried the rest of Kurt's known brooding spots.  _Yes, jackpot_!

            "Evan's an ass," she offered quietly to the form huddled in the over-stuffed chair in the corner behind the Brittanicas.

            "Ja, he is sometimes," Kurt agreed without looking up.  "But it doesn't change that he's right."  His voice was tight and raw, like he might have been crying, but Kitty didn't comment on the fact as she sank to the floor by his chair and leaned her head companionably against his knee.  

            "It's not that bad Fuzzy."  She was going to continue, she had a whole string of reassuring platitudes ready for service, but his snort cut her off.

            "No, it's not that bad, finally figuring out that the girl I've been dating for months was really more interested in the 'freak factor' than in me."  She could see his face from her position on the floor, and while the holo wouldn't show if he'd been crying, she could see the look of pain on his face as he screwed his eyes shut.

            "I'm sorry Liebe," he almost whispered.  "It was just so...so...I don't know.  It just felt good to think that someone had seen past...this," he waved his hand vaguely at himself and continued in a choked voice.  "To think she didn't care about what I looked like, just about me."  He paused, collecting himself, and she waited patiently for him to continue.  "Maybe it shouldn't, but it...it hurts to know that it was no different than...than before...."  His voice trailed off and his eyes widened as he looked down at her.  She knew that he had just let something slip that he hadn't meant to, but now was not the time to pursue it.

            "I meant what I said Kurt.  It's not that bad."  So much for reassuring inanities.  Time to pull out the big guns.  "Maybe she was too interested in you as a visible mutant - but you've got to admit you're a damn cute one," she smiled impishly up at him, then sobered abruptly at his nonplussed look.  

            "You know she doesn't see you as a freak or an animal Kurt.  She's not that kind of person."  He nodded hesitantly, his eyes slipping shut.  "She probably thinks you're unique and exciting and, I suppose, maybe a little dangerous.  Some girls like that you know."  She didn't feel inclined to point out that it was that element of danger that had attracted her to Lance in the first place.  Besides, he probably knew that already.

            "Ja, I know you're right Kaetzchen, I know.  She is _not_ a bad person, that's what made it so hard this morning.  But, well," he looked up then and, even through the holographic image, she could see the pain in his eyes.  "I'm tired of being 'unique' and 'exciting'.  I just wanted to be normal.  Just once...just for a while."  He forced a weary smile and his tail snaked out to wrap loosely around her forearm.  

            "It really wasn't fair to her either Schatz.  In my way, I was using her just as much as she was using me.  It felt good to tell myself that I had a 'normal' girlfriend.  I think I loved the idea of Amanda much more than I ever loved, or thought I loved, her.  I never meant to hurt her," he murmurred, eyes slipping closed again.  "I just wanted to be normal..."  He slid limply to the floor next to her, his tail shifting to wrap around her waist as he settled his head on her shoulder.

            "Oh Fuzzy, you _are_ normal," she whispered into his hair, her voice breaking.  "You are normal, Kurt...."  If she could just say it with enough conviction then maybe, someday, she might make him believe it.

            The rest of the day passed in a blur for Kurt.  Amanda was in most of his classes and he was just starting to realize how difficult it was going to be, for both of them, to be constantly thrown together.  It was some consolation that they didn't actually sit near each other in any of them.

            It was a welcome relief to get home and find three full trucks waiting for them in the circular drive.  Apparently arranging for delivery had been hard enough.  The Professor hadn't been able to find anyone actually willing to set foot in a house full of mutants.  By the time they'd finished unloading three truckloads of furniture and positioning it in the appropriate bedrooms and living areas, everyone was sweaty and exhausted.  By general consensus it was agreed that they would clean up, finish their homework, and reconvene in the newly furnished rec room to enjoy the fruits of their labors until curfew or they passed out from exhaustion, whichever came first.

            "I wonder how long before it's really a Wreck room again," Scott commented as he entered, hair still damp from the shower.  He looked around the room with satisfaction before joining Jean in the huge chair she had been saving for them.  "Might as well enjoy it this way while it lasts."  

            "I'd give Bobby, Ray and Evan about six weeks, max," Kurt announced with a smile from his spot in the corner of the loveseat.  Jean had, of course, been the first down, but Kurt had been a close second.  He was grateful to her for keeping the conversation innocuous and impersonal while they waited for the others.

            "_You'd give them six weeks?" Scott snorted, incredulous.  "Remind me exactly who ripped all the wall sconces out and totally destroyed the first chandelier."_

            Kurt plastered on his best "who, me?" look.  "How was I to know they couldn't take my weight?" he asked, eyes wide.  "It was an innocent mistake.  Besides, I am a reformed man.  I am much more mature and sedate now."

            "Yeah, right!"  Scott was grinning now.  "So that must have been some other furry, blue guy I saw bouncing off the walls this afternoon with Amara and Ray in hot pursuit, hmm?  Because you, obviously, are much too mature and sedate for that sort of thing," and he arched an eyebrow derisively.

            "Aah, hmm, ja, must've been Herr McCoy," Kurt answered, keeping his face straight with great difficulty. 

            "Oh yeah," Jean chimed in for the first time.  "I can definitely picture Dr. McCoy locking Ray and Amara in the utility closet and stealing the doorknob.  It's just his style."

            "I'd blame the twinkies," Kurt replied, his voice solemn.  "He must have over-dosed, and you know what too much sugar and the chemicals in processed foods can do to a man's judgment.  I'm sure he wasn't responsible for his actions."

            His efforts to remain 'serious' were foiled when a cushion suddenly rose from the couch and hurtled straight at his head.  He dodged it with ease, but the three which followed in close succession were a different story.

            "You are _so_ full of it Kurt Wagner," Jean announced with a laugh as she continued to cheerfully pelt him with every soft object in the room. 

            When the rest of the kids finally came down, they found Kurt barricaded in the corner of the loveseat behind every cushion he could cling to with hands, feet and tail, and the three of them reduced to breathless laughter as Jean continued to pummel him and his impromptu shield with everything available.  

            It was good to be out of his self-imposed isolation and be part of his family again, he reflected as they all settled in, chattering and arguing, to enjoy the inaugural movie on the rec room's new flat-screen HDTV.  Even better was when no one so much as batted an eye when Kitty snuggled up against him, her head on his shoulder, as Jean switched off the lights.  

            By halfway through the movie, though, he was almost wishing she hadn't.  _Why did staying 'in the closet' seem like a good idea_? he thought as his tail snaked around her waist of it's own accord.  He shifted restlessly and snagged a pillow from behind his head, inconspicuously he hoped, and laid it across his lap.

            _It's going to be a loooong week, he thought with a sigh, closing his eyes as Kitty draped her arm oh so casually across the pillow.  Maybe that wasn't **quite as inconspicuous as he'd hoped.**_

            The rest of the week, it turned out, was destined to be an indistinct blur of activity.  Logan insisted on reinstituting morning workouts for the team, their homework showed no sign of magically disappearing, and every day during school hours saw the arrival of another truckload or two of furniture.  Every afternoon, therefore, saw a crew of tired mutants heaving tables, chairs, bureaus and boxes to their appointed locations.  The three truckloads from Monday had only been sufficient to furnish the bedrooms, dining room and rec room - the absolute essentials in the students' opinion.  By Thursday afternoon they were all heartily sick of moving furniture.

            _On the plus side, Kitty thought with a muffled groan as she maneuvered out of the freight elevator with a stack of boxes in her arms, _at least I get to escape to school during the day and avoid some of the grind_.  The New Mutants didn't get that relief and were having their regular lessons with the Professor, Dr. McCoy, and Ms. Munroe supplemented by long hours unpacking boxes of books and learning the principals of library organization as they stocked the shelves in the Professor's extensive personal collection, entering each volume in his computer catalog as they went.  __I'd much rather sit through Calculus, she told herself as she approached the Professor's private study._

            She nearly dropped the pile of boxes with a squeak of surprise as strong arms slipped around her from behind and warm breath tickled at her neck.  "My room.  After dinner," Kurt whispered in her ear, his voice low and heated, before pressing a kiss to the side of her neck.  "We'll be doing our homework together if anyone asks, ja?"

            She leaned into his lips with a low moan, enjoying the soft tickle of his fur as he nuzzled her.  His hands were doing rather interesting things beneath her shirt as well, making it a bit of a challenge to balance her load.  She didn't even particularly mind that they were both dusty and sweaty.  She pressed her backside firmly into his groin and turned her head to catch his lips with her own before answering.

            "You're incorrigible Kurt," she murmured huskily.  "I think I like that."  She grinned at him and nipped lightly at his jaw, enjoying the physical evidence that he wanted her.  Then he was stepping abruptly away from her and she knew that his sharp ears had heard someone approaching.

            "Um, why don't I take those for you," he offered sheepishly as he almost snatched the pile of boxes she'd been carrying, holding them low in front of his crotch.  She resisted the urge to laugh at the self-conscious look on his face as Ms. Munroe came around the corner from the freight elevator, loaded down with boxes while Bobby trailed behind her pushing a dolly of office furniture.

            This had to be at least the tenth time this week that they'd narrowly escaped being caught in a compromising or embarrassing position and she was starting to care less and less about being found out each time.  God, she was looking forward to tonight.

            "Hey Ms. Munroe, Bobby," she said as she turned to leave.  "See you at dinner Fuzzy," she called over her shoulder as she headed back toward the service elevator.  "Oh, and can you help me with my Spanish tonight?"  

            "Oh, um, ja.  Spanish.  After dinner.  Ja.  My room okay?"  She had a hard time keeping the grin off her face at his...distraction....  He still seemed to be having a _hard_ time, and it was threatening to give her the giggles.  

            "Yeah, sounds good Kurt.  See ya!" and she turned and ran lightly down the hallway, followed all the way to the corner by burning golden eyes and a wolfish smile.  Yep, it was going to be real hard to keep this in the closet much longer.  Now, to track down Dr. McCoy.

            Kitty waited nervously in Dr. McCoy's small office, just off the sub-basement corridor leading to the main med bay.  It was still mostly empty down here, and it felt doubly cold and bare.  Every noise, however small, seemed to generate a series of hollow, metallic echoes.  She briefly considered just leaving, but Dr. McCoy had agreed to make time to see her before dinner and it would be rude to ditch him.

            So, there she sat, arms and legs both crossed and chewing nervously on her bottom lip.  She could actually hear him puttering around on the other side of the doors leading into his lab, doubtless arranging and connecting his precious equipment.  Most of it had arrived in the last few days, but it would still be quite a while before the med bay was fully functioning.  This was due in part to the fact that a number of the more advanced pieces of equipment required expert assistance to set up properly, and partly because the good doctor wouldn't let anyone else touch most of his 'toys' as Mr. Logan called them - claiming they were too sensitive and expensive to trust to non-professionals.  This left him laboriously handling almost everything himself - except the computer-related issues that he called Kitty in to deal with.

            She briefly considered sticking her head in and letting him know that she was waiting.  Uncrossing her arms, she glanced at her watch.  Nope, he wasn't actually late yet, and she really wasn't in all that big a rush to have this conversation anyway.  She could wait.  She crossed her arms again, almost hugging herself, and settled down to await his arrival.

            Kurt shifted restlessly amidst the array of books and papers he'd spread out on the floor of his room.  He'd gotten a bit behind this week and he was trying to figure out exactly what was due when for what class.  He was having some trouble concentrating though, as he waited for Kitty to arrive.

            She'd been late for dinner and had still been in the dusty, sweaty clothes she'd worked in all afternoon.  That, in itself, was sufficiently unlike her to be some cause for concern.  What had actually made him a bit nervous, however, was the fact that she'd come in just barely ahead of a very pensive Herr Dr. McCoy and then had been uncharacteristically subdued throughout the meal.

            She'd joined in the conversation around her, but not with any particular enthusiasm and he'd noticed the doctor glancing her way much more often than was usual.  He had tried to talk to her after dinner, but she'd put him off, rubbing at her left arm and looking a bit...uncomfortable.

            "Later, Fuzzy.  Just let me get out of these grimy clothes..."

            "I could help with that," he'd interrupted in a low growl meant for her ears only.

            "You wish, Kurt," and she'd smiled with some real enthusiasm.  "Anyway, just let me have a shower and change into something more comfortable, then I'll bring my homework and meet you in your room.  Okay?"  She'd reached out to squeeze his arm lightly, and had let her hand linger just a few heartbeats longer than she would have only a week ago and he'd relaxed a bit.  It was probably just the stress of such a busy week - not that they'd had any other kind since the Sentinel incident.  Still, this one had been more hectic than most.  Throw their 'secret' into the mix and it made for a bit of stress.  He'd stood watching as she headed down the hall and almost missed the sharp look Herr McCoy gave him as he passed.  Almost, but not quite.   What was that about?

            So now he lay there, gnawing absently on his pencil and waiting impatiently for her to arrive.  This was the first night all week that there hadn't been some 'group' activity after dinner and homework.  Logan had muttered something about the Danger Room at dinner, but the Professor had glanced his way and he'd dropped the subject with a vaguely mutinous look.  Kurt was looking forward to the chance to actually spend some time alone with Kitty, something they hadn't done much - really any - of since last Saturday.  They _did_ have to get their homework done, but that shouldn't take too long.  After that, their time was their own, and he could think of some very...satisfying...ways to spend that time in her company.

            He was lost in a rather lascivious train of thought when she finally poked her head, literally as usual, through his door.  "Hey Fuzzy.  Sorry I'm late."  He looked up with a start as her body followed and she crossed his room to sink down on the floor next to him.  Her hair was damp and she was wearing her pyjamas.  Apparently she'd decided there was no point in getting dressed just to change into her pj's in a little while.

            "What're you doing Kurt?  It looks like a bomb went off in here."  She glanced meaningfully at the seeming random piles surrounding him.

            "Ach, I'm just trying to get organized - without much notable success I might add.  I've gotten behind the last week or two and I'm not even sure where I am in a couple of classes."  He glanced around in exasperation.  "I'm thinking I'll give it up as a bad job at this point.  Maybe I can figure it out on Sunday, but for now I just need to get my biology homework done."

            "How about this deal?  You do my Spanish and I'll do your biology.  We'll be finished in no time and then the rest of the night is ours."  She smiled hopefully at him and he felt his heart stutter a beat.

            "Kaetzchen, I'm shocked at you."  He was trying for a stern voice, but wasn't quite making it.  "Suggesting that we _cheat_.  It's not at all like you."  He couldn't stop the smile from creeping into his voice.

            "Yeah, well, there's a first time for everything, and if I have to look at another page of Spanish verbs I think I might go catatonic."  Her smile turned from hopeful to suggestive and her voice shifted to a husky purr.  "You wouldn't want that to happen, now would you?"

            He blinked slowly as the heat from most of a week's worth of stolen kisses and clandestine gropings burned its way through his veins.  "Ah, no, you're _much more fun conscious," he finally managed.  She was leaning slightly towards him and his breath hitched as he caught a glimpse down her top to the gentle swell of her breasts.  She wasn't wearing a bra, and rational thought pretty much kicked off at that point._

            She didn't seem to mind at all, though, as he closed the distance between them and crushed her lips in an almost bruising kiss.  No, she definitely didn't mind.  Her arms slipped around his neck as she scooted closer to him, scattering papers and books in the process.  _To hell with the homework, it's not like it's going anywhere.  It'll still be there in an hour...or two_...

            Bed...the bed would be a good place to be....  He lifted her easily, and she tightened her grip on his neck as he made his way over to it, setting her down in the center of the huge four-poster and then stretching out to lie next to her.

            It didn't take long for things to deteriorate from there.  Clothing was discarded rapidly and randomly until they were both down to bare flesh - or, in his case, fur.  And oh, the sheer ecstasy of having all of that warm, bare, pink flesh pressed up against him.  He was hardly aware of anything beyond the beating of his heart, the movement of her body against his, and her soft moans, gasps and murmurs of pleasure.  It was all he wanted and all he needed.

            "Oh shit!  Um...ah...shit!  What the hell...."  Scott stood, stunned and blinking, just inside the door to Kurt's room.  His brain couldn't quite process the image that, he was sure, was now permanently seared on his corneas.  He was just beginning to think that standing there with the bedroom door wide open might not be the best idea in the world when Kurt disappeared from his field of view with his characteristic 'bamf'.  His overwhelmed brain registered the sight of a stark naked Kitty Pryde scrambling to pull Kurt's comforter over herself and he had, perhaps, half a heartbeat to wonder if maybe the whole scene might not be quite so disturbing if he wasn't seeing it through a wash of red, before an equally naked Kurt reappeared right next to him in a haze of acrid smoke.  

            With a wordless snarl, the younger boy kicked the bedroom door shut and then Scott found himself seized roughly by the shirt front and shoved backwards into the wall.

            "What the _hell_ are you doing here?" he growled, fangs gleaming just inches from Scott's face.  "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" and Kurt shifted his grip to lift him slightly off the floor, with an apparent ease that would have surprised Scott if his brain was processing rational thought.  

            "Um, Kurt?  Are you gonna, like, actually _do anything to him?  'Cause, if not, you might want to put him down now."  Kitty's voice was actually amused - amused - and Scott had to stop himself from turning his head to look at her.  That was __not something he needed another eyeful of, not if he was going to be able to keep working with her._

            This was ridiculous, he could stand up to Magneto or Mystique without batting an eyelash.  He could remain totally calm in the face of rabid, mutant-hating mobs.  Hell, he'd taken on the entire U.S. military and walked away.  So why did the sight of two of his friends - who were supposedly just friends themselves - hot, sweaty and naked reduce him to stunned incoherence?  Whatever the reason, it was probably information he'd rather the Brotherhood _not_ have.

            He raised his left hand slightly, bringing the calculator he was holding into Kurt's still burning field of vision.  "Um...so... Kurt.  Can I borrow your calculator?  Mine died...."

            Kurt stared at him blankly for a moment, the anger draining visibly from eerie yellow eyes.  Suddenly his grip loosened and Scott slid the few inches to the floor with an audible thump.

            "Haven't you ever heard of knocking Scott?" he repeated in a wearily amused voice.

            "Haven't you ever heard of locking your damn door?" he fired back.  "Jesus Kurt!"  He was starting to get angry now.  He didn't like being caught flat-footed and the shock was fading rapidly as his brain kicked into gear and started to process the situation.  "And will you put on some damn clothes?  What the hell do you think you're doing anyway?"  He closed his eyes briefly and sucked in a breath.  "Wait. No.  Don't answer that."  

            He'd been studiously ignoring Kitty where she sat watching their exchange, the quilt pulled up above her bare breasts.  Now he turned his back to the bed and spoke to the wall.  "Kitty," he'd fallen into Fearless Leader mode, and he knew his voice had the snap of an order he expected to be obeyed.  "Get dressed and get back to your room.  Now.  Kurt and I," and he turned his attention to the younger boy, who stood glaring at him, "need to have a little talk."

            Kurt peeled his lips back from his teeth in a snarl as he took a step closer, intentionally crowding Scott's personal space.  "Wait just a minute Scott!  Was in der Holle..."

            "No.  You wait a minute Kurt."  He was on a roll now and he wasn't going to get derailed.  "I don't give a damn about whatever screwed up emotional garbage has you in bed with your best friend.  We've got a little issue here called 'age of consent' - and she hasn't reached it yet.  Neither have you for that matter, but that's beside the point.  Now.  Get.  Dressed."

            He looked down into a pair of burning golden eyes and paused briefly to wonder if maybe pushing a confrontation right now wasn't the best idea he'd ever had.  A low growl began to rumble audibly through Kurt's chest - something Scott always found slightly disconcerting - and he realized that he couldn't afford to back down even if he wanted to.  Not and maintain any kind of authority over the younger boy in future.

            "Stay the hell out of our personal life, Scott."  His accent was thickening markedly and Scott could swear Kurt's fur was actually bristling.  There was a definite threat in his bared fangs.  They'd both completely forgotten about Kitty for the moment.

            "You know, I'm sure that this testosterone fueled pissing match is really a ball for the two of you, but do you think that maybe you could get a grip and quit acting like a pair of strange dogs?"  She'd slipped into Kurt's shirt sometime during their confrontation, and now stood almost between them.  Neither he nor Kurt had even noticed her approach, they'd been so focused on each other.  Now they both stared in confusion, surprised by her unexpected interruption almost as much as by her calm.

            She held out a pair of boxers to Kurt, who was still standing there stark naked, and looking self-conscious about it for the first time.  "Danke," he murmured, his tone subdued, as he slipped quickly into them.

            "Better," she announced with satisfaction, and Scott silently seconded the thought.  "It's hard to have a reasonable conversation in the buff," and she actually grinned at them.

            "Kitty, I don't know what the hell," he'd hardly gotten started before she cut him off.

            "No, you're right Scott, you don't."  Now it was apparently her turn to get angry.  "You don't know a damn thing."

            She stepped closer to Kurt and put a hand on his arm, while his tail snaked out to twine firmly around her bare leg.  Scott looked at the two of them in surprise.  He had no idea when or how this...whatever it was...had started between them, but this obviously wasn't their first time.  They were way too familiar and comfortable with each other under the circumstances.  _Shit!  This is so not good_.

            He would try to be reasonable about this.  He had no intention of involving any of the adults if he could avoid it, but this definitely had to end.  Now.  Before things got completely out of hand.

            "Kitty," he started in his most persuasive voice.  "What I do know is that you're sixteen years old.  You're too young..."

            "Too young to risk my life on missions on a regular basis?" she interrupted.  "Too young to spend ten plus hours a week in the Danger Room with a blade wielding psycho, hopefully learning how to _not_ get skewered on those missions?  Too young to wonder if today's going to be the day that some nut-case with a gun and some time on his hands decides that the world would be a better place with one less mutant in it?"  Her voice had risen with each question until she was all but yelling in his face.

            Scott glanced at Kurt and saw a look of shock that he was pretty sure must be a mirror of his own. 

            "I may be too young for a lot of the things I do Scott, but I am sure as _hell not too young to...to..."  She gestured vaguely, for the first time at a loss for words.  Finally she snorted in frustration, "oh hell!  If I'm old enough to do it I'm old enough to say it.  Don't you _dare_ tell me I'm not old enough to have sex with _someone I love_," and she glared defiantly up at him, tears of anger beginning to sting at the corner of her eyes and trail down her flushed cheeks.  He just stood there, gaping in shock while Kurt, for his part, couldn't seem to decide whether to be shocked or smug._

            "And, for the record, in case you're laboring under the misapprehension that Kurt's been 'taking advantage' of me - think again!  _I_ started this, not Kurt.  So get the hell out of my personal life Scott Summers!"  She was crying in earnest now, and Kurt gathered her up in a fierce embrace, glaring at Scott over her bowed head while she wept quietly into his bare shoulder.  

            Scott couldn't quite decide anymore whether to be angry or embarrassed.  They _were_ too young for this, dammit!  But she had a valid point - they were too young for a whole hell of a lot of things.  He ran his hands through his hair in frustration.  If only he had never opened that fucking door.  

            Kitty's tears had trailed off, but she still nestled within the circle of Kurt's arms, making no move to turn and face Scott again.  Kurt was gently rubbing one hand along her back, smoothing absently at her tense shoulders, while the other trailed through her hair and, Scott noticed, his tail wrapped tightly around her waist.  

            Looking at the pair, he finally sighed in defeat.  "Look, maybe you're right.  Maybe this isn't any of my business.  Right now, I don't know.  My gut reaction is to tell you that you're wrong.  That you _are_ too young for this kind of relationship, no matter what else is going on in your lives, but, well....  Just promise me that you'll think about it, okay?  I mean, really give this some serious thought before...well...doing _this again.  Please?"_

            This time it was Kurt who answered him.  The anger was gone from his voice and his face was serious.  "Scott, you have no idea how much thought we've given this, and I can tell you right now that agonizing over it further isn't going to change our decision.  I _can_ promise you that we have been...careful...and that we always will be."  

            Scott didn't like the sound of that - just how the hell long _had this been going on?_

            Kurt closed his eyes briefly and dropped his head to rest on Kitty's shoulder before continuing in a muffled voice.  "This is not...casual...or thoughtless.  We're not just playing around for the fun of it and I'm...surprised...you think that either of us would."  He looked up again, and some of the fire was back in his eyes.  "I'm not going to ask for your... _approval...or your permission because I know I won't get either and, honestly, I don't give a damn.  It won't change anything."_

            He knew it was hopeless at this point, but he couldn't resist one last ditch effort to talk sense into his friends.  "You do know you won't be able to keep this from the adults forever, don't you?  And they're not going to be happy when they find out.  What will you do then?"          

            Kitty raised her head and turned to look at him, a bit of a glint in her eye and he wondered just what she found humorous in the situation.  

            "Actually," she said with a teary smile.  "Mr. Logan and Dr. McCoy already know."

            "What?"

            "Was?" 

            Scott's attention was somewhat diverted from his own shock by Kurt's surprised outburst.  It was kind of nice not to be the only one caught completely off-guard, but it didn't change the fact that he couldn't believe that the adults, at least some of them, knew about this...situation...and had done absolutely nothing to put a stop to it.

            "And when the Professor and Ms. Munroe find out...  Well, if they have a problem with it, I'll tell them exactly what I told you and Dr. McCoy.  I'm not going to go rubbing their noses in it, but I'm not ashamed, and I'm not going to back down like a 'good little girl'.  I'm not a little girl anymore, and I'm sick to death of being good."

            Scott finally had to concede that he had completely lost any advantage or moral authority he might ever have had on the issue.  They weren't going to listen to him and he wasn't going to rat them out to the Professor.  Not that it would necessarily matter if he did, from the sounds of it.  

            He felt some lessening of the burden of responsibility, knowing that, if Kitty was telling the truth - and he had no reason to believe she wasn't - then at least some of the adults were aware of how things stood.  It was still hard for him to let go, but he simply couldn't take personal responsibility for everything that happened around here - much as he sometimes tried to.  The only option he really had left was how to try and salvage the situation.  He didn't want to ruin two good friendships over this.

            Kitty was still staring defiantly at him and Kurt was still staring questioningly at her.  

            "Fine, you win," he finally answered her.  "Just...ah shit.  Just...be careful, okay?"  He met Kurt's irritated glare with one of his own.  "I know what you said Kurt.  I was listening.  But it can't hurt to be reminded."

            A lot of the tension had left him now that he'd abdicated any personal responsibility for the situation and he managed a weak smile.  "Just remember, you hurt her, she's got a whole houseful of 'big brothers' to rip you a new asshole, okay Elf?"

            Kurt grinned in response, eagerly seizing on Scott's awkward attempt to make peace.  "What is it, threaten the blue furry guy week?  First Logan and now you, I feel like I should watch my back."  He looked questioningly at Kitty.  "Did anyone ever threaten Lance when you were dating him?" he asked plaintively.

            "Yeah, you did you fuzzy idiot.  But you might want to keep in mind that I was never...ahem...intimate...with him."  She shifted her attention to Scott with a grin.  "And as for you," she told him.  "Keep in mind that I can bloody well look after myself thankyouverymuch.  So if anyone ever needs to rip Fuzzy here a new one on my account, I think I'll do the honors myself."

            "Hey!  Wait a minute.  I resent that."

            "That's the Kitty we all know and love," Scott interjected with a wry smile, ploughing right over Kurt's mock-outraged protest.  "Bloodthirsty to the core," and he reached out to rumple her hair affectionately.

            They seemed to have gotten back to a place where they could all live with each other, impossible as that might have seemed a few minutes ago.  Scott decided that it was time to make his escape before anything else could jump up to bite him in the butt - besides, from the look on Kurt's face, he and Kitty probably had a few things to discuss.

            "So...Kurt?  How about that calculator?" he asked, almost sheepishly.

            "Hm?  Oh, ja," the younger boy tore his eyes away from Kitty and stepped over to his desk.  He hadn't had it long enough to make a pig's breakfast out of the drawers yet, so it only took him a moment to find the item in question.

            "Here," he said, tossing it lightly across the room.  "Take the verdammt thing and get the hell out of my room.  We've got...homework...to do still."

            "Yeah, whatever," Scott replied, turning to the door and trying, not entirely successfully, to ignore the looks they were giving each other.  "Just try to remember what locks are for in future, eh?"

            The last thing he heard as the door swung shut behind him was Kurt's voice, lightly laced with sarcasm, "Well, if Kaetzchen ever actually _used the verdammt door, she just might remember to lock it behind her..." and then the faint 'snick' of the lock being thrown.  _

            Scott wondered briefly as he walked away if it was really Kitty he should be worried about, but shrugged the thought away.  He could handle this thing with Kitty, whatever it was.  He didn't need his friends babysitting him, and wouldn't appreciate it even if he did.  Kurt was a big boy, and far from the shell-shocked bundle of nerves that the Prof and Logan had dragged into the med-bay half dead in the fall.  Wasn't he?  He wanted the answer to that to be yes, and shied reflexively away from memories of Kurt skulking dead-eyed through the house just a week before.  The truth was, he really wasn't sure. 

            As Kurt locked the door behind Scott, Kitty slumped against the wall.  She looked thoroughly wrung out, and Kurt wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and hold her until she fell asleep.  Instead, he took a deep breath and asked, somewhat wryly, "And exactly how did Dr. McCoy become privy to our...situation...Liebe?  I suppose that it has something to do with the odd looks he was giving you all through dinner, and the dirty look I got as he left?"

            "I didn't really want you to find out this way Kurt," she looked nervously at her hands where they were twisting in front of her.  "I was going to tell you...later."

            "Tell me what Liebe?"

            "Well, I went to see Dr. McCoy this afternoon.  Right before dinner, actually."  She paused again, and Kurt found that her nervousness was beginning to make him antsy.

            "What about Kaetzchen?"

            She looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes, and he realized, from the look in her eyes, that she wasn't nervous about what had happened with Dr. McCoy, she was nervous about his reaction to it - so nervous, in fact, that he could smell it on her.  "It's all right, Liebe, you can tell me."

            "I went to ask about birth control," it came out in a rush and she looked back down at her hands, unwilling to meet his eyes.

            He blinked in surprise a few times, trying to process the information.  She apparently took his silence for censure and hurried on, explaining and justifying in a mild panic.  "I didn't tell him about _us Kurt, just that...that I wanted birth control.  I'm sorry if you don't approve...I know it's not a Catholic thing - I, I asked Rogue about it.  But...well...it just seemed...safer and, well, easier, y'know.  So, I figured I'd just go get it taken care of and if you weren't...weren't involved then it couldn't be, like, your fault or anything so it wouldn't, like, screw you up with the Church and stuff and..."_

            "Whoa Kaetzchen.  Slow down.  Take a breath."  She was getting red in the face from trying to force everything out at once in a full on, stream-of-consciousness panic.  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her gently to him, wrapping his tail around her waist as she settled tensely against his chest.  

            "Liebe, I'm...surprised...I suppose.  But mostly because you didn't say anything to me about it.  And I'm sorry that you, that you felt you had to face Dr. McCoy alone."  She was relaxing against him and he stroked her hair and her back lightly as he continued, his voice soft.  "I appreciate that you were concerned for the strictures of my faith, but the Church really doesn't look on condoms with any more approval, so really, I'm already in up to my hips, eh?  A little more won't hurt.  Besides, I'm no more ready to be a father than you are a mother and, well," he sighed heavily, "with all the other sins on my soul, I'm really not going to lose any sleep over that one."  He kissed temple, inhaling the fresh smell of her as he did so, and toyed with a strand of her dark hair.  He wasn't about to tell her what the Church said about fornication, and he hoped she wouldn't go to the trouble to find out on her own.

            "And as for my approval Kaetzchen, whatever the Church might say about it, it is your body and your choice.  I wouldn't presume to claim any authority over you in such matters, ja?  Perhaps that makes me not a very good Catholic, but I hope it makes me a better man."

            He took her gently by the shoulders and moved her slightly away from him, just enough to be able to look her in the eye.  "Now, why on earth do you think I would care if Dr. McCoy knew that I was the reason you were seeking his services?"  Out of all she'd said and implied, this was what bothered him the most.  

            "Do you think I would rather you let him believe you were being intimate with Lance, or a random stranger from school?  I am not ashamed of you...of this, Liebe...or," and he paused, uncertain, "would _you_ rather he not know?"  His voice trailed off at that possibility.  It had just occurred to him that she might be ashamed for the doctor to know that she was sleeping with him - not that she didn't want him to know that she was having sex, but that she didn't want him to know he was having sex with the freak.  _No, no, no, no, no_.... 

            "No, silly elf.  It's not that - never.  And as for Dr. McCoy, well, he's probably figured out it's you by now."  

            His heart gradually resumed its normal rhythm and he managed to raise one eyebrow in inquiry as she grinned impishly up at him.  "He started to give me the lecture about how condoms are still important in preventing the spread of STDs, and I kind of let slip how that wasn't really a problem, because he'd, like, tested all of us for everything under the sun anyway.  He just gave me a _look, you know?  And I could see the wheels start turning as he tried to figure out who it could be.  I got the whole 'age of consent' lecture from him too, so at least I was ready for Scott when he pulled it out."  She laughed then, in a way that eased his heart.  "Dr. McCoy was actually a bit easier to convince, though, seeing as how he was the one who told all of us we could come to him for any help we needed any time.  You remember?  His whole 'I won't ask and I won't tell, I just want you to be safe' lecture._

            Kurt grinned at the memory of the large blue man trying to make himself understandable, and approachable, to a room full of teens in the merciless grip of uncontrollable hormonal urges.  Or at least that was how he'd appeared to view them.  "Ja, but I think Logan's version of 'the talk' is actually much more effective.  I am fairly certain that Jamie will not even _think of touching a girl until he is at least thirty - and even then he will probably require her to submit to a full physical and request a copy of her test results first."  _

            He had to support her as she almost collapsed against him laughing.  "You're horrible Kurt," she finally sputtered.  "And poor Jamie, did Logan really scare him that bad?"

            "Oh Liebe, he put the fear of God like you wouldn't believe into the poor boy - and half the male population of this place."  His grin was almost splitting his face by this point.  "Herr McCoy may have used pictures, but his powers of description pale in comparison to Logan's - plus, Logan used threats, and you know how convincing he can make those."

            "And as for not telling you first.  Well, I just, like, didn't know how you'd feel about it...about everything.  And it was...important...to me, because, like, I have _no_ intention of giving you up Fuzzy," and he couldn't help but smile at the combination of shyness and ferocity she managed to put into that one statement.  "It just seems safer than trusting to condoms or...well, to our self control."  She looked down, blushing crimson, as she spoke.  "I know I don't seem to have a lot of it where you're concerned.  If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have used protection at all last weekend, because I sure wasn't thinking about it when it mattered.  I was so...overwhelmed, I guess...that it never even occurred to me.  I just don't want to risk that...that you might ever forget because I'm just not ready for the whole mommy thing yet, not by a long shot."

            Kurt placed one large finger under her chin and tilted her head up gently until their eyes met.  "I'll take that as a compliment, Liebe," he said with a slow smile, his voice sounding low and rough in his ears as her words sent a wave of heat through him.  "You are right to be careful, but I still don't like that Dr. McCoy might think you are...promiscuous...or that, well, that I wouldn't care for your well-being enough to support your decision."  

            He grinned as a thought occurred tohim, "would you like me to see him tomorrow?  If nothing else, he could give me the other half of your lecture, and that's probably better than making him hunt me down to it, ne?  Because you know he will if he has, as you think, 'figured it out'"

            "Well, there is that," she conceded with a smile.  But really, you don't have to do that Fuzzy.  I've...taken care of everything...so there's no reason for you to have to deal with it.  He, uh, wanted me to wait.  You know, think things over and come back to him with a decision later.  But I've been thinking about it all week, and I finally managed to, like, wear him down."  She rubbed lightly at her arm again, her face thoughtful.

            "What...method...did you choose, Liebe?  If you don't mind my asking."

            "Hm?  Oh, no, I don't care.  I went for the depo-provera shots," and she grimaced faintly at him.  She didn't, he recalled, think much more highly of needles than he did.  "The side effects aren't much different than the pill and I don't have to remember to take something every day.  The way our lives go, I'd probably forget to take one and then we'd be up shit creek without a paddle," she grinned up at him.  "This way I just have to go back for another shot every three months and, otherwise, I never have to worry about it."  

            Her smile widened, and she lowered her lashes to look up at him from beneath their dark sweep.  "And do you want to know the best part?"  She paused for effect.  "It only takes twenty-four hours to become effective.  That means, for your information, 5:45 tomorrow."

            He returned her smile and kissed the tip of her nose playfully, trying unsuccessfully to suppress the low, rumbling purr that wanted to escape at the thought of being able to be with her without any thought or need for protection.  His stomach, and other things, tightened very pleasantly at the thought.

            "That," he growled quietly into her ear, "is a date."  

            It was the last coherent phrase either of them uttered for a while, and things were, in Kurt's opinion, just starting to get interesting again when they were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

            "Ignore it," he growled harshly against her throat, "it's locked this time."  He nipped almost roughly at her jaw as he pulled her more tightly to him, his hands sliding across her deliciously bare flesh.  Her hand was already down the back of his shorts, running across the soft fur of his ass, and at the nip she gasped, then slid it smoothly around to the front, wrapping her fingers firmly around his straining length.

            "Ach, Gott!"  His knees wanted to buckle, but that was okay, because he was pretty sure he could get them to the bed first.  He'd just started to move them in that direction when the knock was repeated, this time accompanied by a rather insistent voice.  He was about to shout a suitable obscenity in response when the voice registered on his addled brain and he stopped in his tracks.

            "Mr Wagner!  I am perfectly cognizant of the fact that you are currently occupying your domicile.  I would appreciate the pleasure of your company down in my office at your earliest possible convenience.  Oh, and I recommend that you make sure that it's convenient in no more than ten minutes.  I'll be waiting."

            "I could be wrong Schatz, but I'm fairly certain that _wasn't a request," he finally managed to gasp out._

            "Ya think Fuzzy?"

            "And I'm guessing, based on the number of three dollar words he threw in, that I won't be getting the short version of the lecture either."  He pressed an almost desperate kiss at the base of her throat and suppressed another growl as she gave his still hard erection a firm, deliberate stroke.

            "Since you're screwed anyway, want to make the best of it?" she asked impishly.  "We've got ten minutes after all."

            "Oh Gott, Kaetzchen!  Stop.  It.  Are you trying to kill me Liebe?"  He knew his fangs were bared as he panted, open-mouthed, and he closed his eyes tightly against the sensation that they were rolling back in his head.  "Appealing as that thought is Schatz," he managed to gasp through now tightly clenched teeth.  "I think my chances of surviving this interview are probably better if I show up sooner rather than later, and preferably not smelling of sex."

            "Spoilsport," she murmured into his neck, and he could feel her mouth tip into a smile against his skin.

            "It might be a record Schatz - the speed at which you've gone from sweet, pure and innocent to a thoroughly corrupt sex goddess."  He chuckled throatily as he finally managed to extricate himself, however reluctantly, from her grip.

            "Whatever gave you the idea that I was all that pure before Fuzzy?  There's plenty of things you can do that don't include going 'all the way.'"  He blinked at her in mild shock as she smirked at him.  "You don't get sole credit for corrupting my innocence you know," and she graced him with a particularly heart-stopping smile as she crossed the room and began retrieving her clothes.

            "That," he told her, still blinking in surprise, "was information I really didn't need.  I would much have preferred to maintain the delusion that you were, until recently at least, as pure as the driven snow.  That is the expression, ja?"  He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her, mostly recovered from the 'shock' now.  "It makes you that much more entertaining to corrupt."

            She burst into a fit of giggles at that, while he joined her in sorting through discarded clothes.  "You know," she told him as she finally regained her composure, "at this rate, you're not going to get much of a chance to contribute to my delinquency."

            "Hmmmmm," he rumbled at her.  "I imagine that if Scott has his way, and probably Herr McCoy as well, I will not get _any chance to do so.  But," and he grinned wickedly at her, fangs bared, "I know one place where no one is likely to...interrupt...us."  He slipped behind her, running his hands down her sides to rest on the gentle swell of her hips as he bent his face to her neck, inhaling the sweet, intoxicating fragrance of her skin.  "Meet me tomorrow after your Danger Room session.  In the South Woods, by the big oak tree where Logan gathers us for drills."  He planted a soft kiss in the hollow just below her left ear.  "No one ever comes into the woods, Liebe.  We can talk and do...whatever else...we might want without any interruption out there."_

            She pressed her hips back into him, rubbing temptingly against the lingering hardness she found there, before answering him in a husky voice.  "See you at five o'clock then Fuzzy.  Don't be late," and she pulled away with a laugh at his groan of frustration.

            "Nothing could possibly delay me Kaetzchen," he answered.  "That is assuming I survive this encounter with Herr McCoy anyway.  Wish me luck?"

            "Just nod and smile a lot when he breaks out the big words and you'll be fine Fuzzy - so long as there's not a written test anyway.  Now go on, before I decide to heck with him and jump you anyway."  She kissed him almost chastely on the cheek and, laughing, placed a hand on his shoulder, phased him, and sent him stumbling into the hall.

            _Ach, scheisse.  Just what I need, blue balls both literally and figuratively.  This meeting is going to be uncomfortable in **so** many ways.  He headed down the corridor to the elevator, trying to think about anything but what he'd just left behind in his room or how incredibly uncomfortable he was at the moment.  _Asking Beast if he knows any cure for blue balls might not be the best conversational opener under the circumstances_, he thought with a grimace as he turned the corner and headed for the elevator.  He **definitely wasn't taking the stairs tonight.**_

            "Oh my stars and garters," for the second time that day Henry McCoy heaved an enormous sigh and lowered his head to rest in his massive paws.  What on earth had ever possessed him to take responsibility for the health and well-being of a houseful of teenage mutants?  There were days when he seriously thought that Edna McCoy's favorite son really wasn't cut out for this life - and today was one of them.  He rubbed gingerly at his temples, trying to alleviate the pain of his incipient migraine.

            He'd known this day would come.  Really, once he'd delivered "the talk", he'd known that it was just a matter of time before someone took him up on the offer.  He'd even told Charles as much.  If anything, it was rather surprising that it had taken this long, considering the sheer volume of hormones rampaging through the halls.  So why did he feel like he'd been blind-sided this afternoon? 

            Perhaps, he thought, his unease was more the result of _who had come to him than the actual subject.  If he'd been asked who among the mansion's residents he expected to be having this afternoon's conversation with, Kitty Pryde would not have made it anywhere near his short list - and he did indeed __have a short-list.  The fact that young Mr. Wagner was the other party to the situation made it seem almost surreal.  _No, definitely not on the short list.._.  _

            Well, he'd delivered the obligatory warnings and extracted the appropriate promises - for both caution and discretion - from both of them.  Indeed, the latter had been his primary reason for calling Kurt to his office in the first place.  He had thought it prudent to remind the younger man that, while his personal relationships were his own business, it behooved him to remember that he and Kitty were, by nature of their seniority and experience, examples to the younger students.  

            It had easily been one of the most awkward conversations he'd ever had the misfortune to be a party to.  Ironically, Kurt's perfect attentiveness and total lack of self-consciousness or defensiveness had only made it more so.  He'd had to keep reminding himself that the boy was, in fact, just that - a boy of only sixteen.  Sometime in the not too distant future, Charles was going to be in for a rather rude awakening concerning those two, and Henry wondered exactly how the world's most powerful telepath would deal with it when the time came.

            He sighed again and ran thick fingers roughly through his hair before finally stirring from his seat.  The springs protested noisily as he eased his bulk up and knuckled over to the cabinet where he had already secreted an 'emergency' supply of twinkies.  It was definitely a twinkie kind of night.

************************

I'm not sure where, exactly, I came across the name Edna for Beast's mom.  I _think it might have been from Tarchannon's Beast in Left Turn at Westchester, but it might have been elsewhere.  Heck, it might even be canon, I'm certainly no expert on Beast.  Suffice it to say that I certainly didn't come up with it, but I liked the sound of it, so I used it.  _

Other than that, sorry if this chapter's a bit choppy and disjointed.  My muse appears to be on strike - not sure if it's for higher wages or better working hours.  Probably the latter since I tend to do most of my writing between 11pm and 2am.  I'm _trying_ to use more dialogue and less internal monologue, I hope it's working.  It certainly doesn't come naturally to me.  The next chapter should _start getting into more action finally.  Note, however, that I say __should - I do have a tendency to get hijacked and dragged off track, so we'll see.  _

As always, please REVIEW.  Gives me the warm fuzzies.  Inspires me to bother continuing.  Remember, constructive criticism is gladly accepted.


	17. TGIF

I'm sure we all know the drill by now, but just in case - Not mine.  Just dreaming.  Spending **way** too much time dreaming actually, but we won't go there.  

Now that that's taken care of....  Okay, this is kind of a short chapter - for me anyway.  I know that it's almost epic by the standards of most other fics.  Think of it this way.  By reading all this, you're proving what a superior attention span you have, right?  Yay you.  Sorry, feeling a tad sarcastic tonight.

This was actually only supposed to be half of the chapter, but I've been pretty slow lately and it seemed like an okay stopping point so I decided to post.  As always, please let me know what you think.  Writers thrive on feedback - okay, we don't thrive on 'you suck, don't quit your day job'.  That leads to intense depression and large bills for psychotherapy (j/k), but pretty much anything else is good.  Get the picture?  Good.  Hope you enjoy.

T.G.I.F.

            Kurt lay sprawled on his back, gazing up through the sparse canopy of new spring leaves to a patchwork of blue sky and wispy white clouds.  It was peaceful here in the woods, and much as he loved company, sometimes he relished the quiet and solitude that he could find here.  

            It amused him no end sometimes how the other residents of the mansion almost entirely avoided the woods on and around the Professor's estate.  Rahne had come here sometimes before she'd had to leave.  The dark beneath the trees had held no menace for the lupine girl.  Logan, Kurt knew, wandered the forest paths as often as he himself did.  The others, though, came only when the Wolverine dragged them in for a training session and left as quickly as they could when it was over.  That made it ideal for his purposes today.

            He'd heard them describe these woods - his refuge - as everything from just plain dark and gloomy to ominous, forbidding, even menacing.  Really, they were just woods, and to him they were endlessly beautiful.  Their colors, sounds and smells changed constantly - with the seasons, with the weather, even with the time of day.  There was nothing forbidding here in this small, tame corner of 'wilderness,' surrounded entirely by a bustling sea of humanity.  

            Kurt smiled at the memory of Evan's surprise when he had once described them to him in just those terms - small and tame.  To the city bred boy they apparently seemed expansive and wild, but compared to the vast, ancient forests and towering snow-capped peaks of his Bavarian childhood they were nothing but a small, and sometimes comforting, reminder of the wide-roaming freedom of his earliest years.

            Kurt stretched slightly, not moving from his supine position, but shifting just enough to allow his cramped tail more freedom of movement.  Lying on his back for any length of time was not really comfortable, but the view of the forest canopy was soothing, and he needed soothing right now.  He was momentarily distracted from the beauty of the view as the spaded blue tip of his tail flicked rapidly across his field of vision, the only indication of the nervous energy he was working hard to control.  

            He suppressed a brief surge of irritation at the sight.  No one else around here had to deal with an appendage over which they had so little control.  Certainly, he _could control it well enough when he __had to - it was even more dexterous than a hand in some circumstances - but that was only if he cared to actually __think about it.  The moment his mind moved on to other matters his tail went about its own business, often with little regard to what he would have preferred it to do.  _

            He didn't even want to _try and tally the number of hours he must have spent over the years just concentrating on keeping the verdammt thing still, trying not to call attention to the thoroughly inhuman appendage.  There had even been a fairly lengthy period when he had insisted on keeping it shoved down his pants leg, despite the considerable discomfort that entailed...  He grimaced unconsciously as his mind skipped quickly away from that train of thought.  With a sharp shake of his head he forced his attention back to the beauty of his surroundings.  _

            He could hear the quiet scuttlings and burrowings of any number of small creatures, smell the rich loam of the forest floor and the sweetness of the sap moving through new spring wood.  Relaxing again, he inhaled a great lungful of the cool, sweet air.

            What he _wanted to do was to launch himself into furious activity, but what he _needed_ to do was to think through the events of the last few days and try to sort out just where things stood before Kitty joined him.  _

            With all the activity lately, he felt like he'd hardly had a chance to take a deep breath all week.  It made him inordinately grateful for the Professor's decision to cancel his usual Friday afternoon ethics class, in addition to giving everyone the weekend free.  Logan, of course, had not been nearly so enthusiastic.  While he had caved on the issue of the free weekend, he had flat out refused to cancel his Friday afternoon Danger Room session, so now Kurt lay in the dappled shade of the old oak and waited for Kaetzchen.  

            He sighed and shifted restlessly, checking his watch as he did so.  _Only 4:30.  At least another half hour to wait.  _

            He let his mind drift to pleasant thoughts of exactly what he wanted to do to her when she finally did arrive.  It had taken him a remarkably short time to shift his perception of her from best friend and surrogate little sister to girlfriend, lover and almost constant object of lustful desire - a desire he hoped to satisfy in the not too distant future.  

            He shifted yet again and tried to ignore the fact that his pants were becoming quite uncomfortable.  Maybe he should find something besides Kitty's manifest charms to occupy his thoughts while he waited.  He didn't, after all, want to jump her like a sex-crazed maniac the moment she arrived.

            _Oh sheisse, let's be honest here.  Of course I do, but I'm not going to....  Unless that's what **she** wants_.  The last week had left them both extremely frustrated, so there was some hope on that count, especially after last night.  Last night....

            He sighed heavily.  _I'm starting to think that trying to keep this relationship a secret's not just a bad idea, it's bloody well hopeless_.  He snorted in exasperation and slapped at a clump of wildflowers with his tail.

            _It's not like it's doing us any good anyway_, he thought with frustration.  _The whole point was to keep our privacy and we've had precious little of that all week_.

            There almost seemed to be a conspiracy against them.  They'd never had any trouble being alone before.  Hell, they'd spent _hours_ alone in his room or hers - talking, studying, watching late night movies.  She'd even slept with him (in perfect innocence) on a number of occasions when they'd fallen asleep during a movie or after studying.  Yes, they'd been walked in on, but it really seemed, in retrospect, to have been the exception, not the rule.  But maybe it only seemed that way because it had all been innocent before.

            This week, though, he could count on the fingers of one hand sadly lacking in said digits the number of times they'd been alone in a room for more than five minutes, and one of those times had led to the fiasco with Scott last night.  Kurt shuddered at the memory.  He knew it would have seemed hilariously funny if it had happened to someone else, but it hadn't and even the memory of Scott's shocked horror couldn't make it anything other than disconcerting at the very best.  _Talk about awkward and embarrassing.  That one will be hard to top - and Gott I hope I'm never in a position to manage that_.  He grimaced and his tail thrashed in agitation at the thought.

            Remembering Kitty's impassioned defense of their relationship brought him a smile, though.  She'd been so fierce.  It had been quite an experience to see their Fearless Leader totally at a loss.  God, at that moment he'd loved her so much it had actually hurt. How he could ever have doubted her was a mystery.  

            And yet...his face fell into grim planes as he thought...and yet he still felt like he was losing his footing on uncertain ground.  He was still frightened.  He knew, absolutely, that he could trust her.  Knew that she would never intentionally hurt him.  Unfortunately, his gut had trouble accepting that fact.  He couldn't stop waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the pain and humiliation to begin.

            "Scheisse!"  His tail snapped through the air with a sound reminiscent of a whip crack as he lifted his arms and draped them across his face, snorting in frustration.  _It's ridiculous!  I know it.  So why the hell can't I make the feeling go away?  He squeezed his eyes shut against a rising surge of misery.  _

            Why couldn't he accept that sex could be anything other than emotionless gratification of lust or a painful exercise in shame, fear and humiliation?  Hadn't Kitty proven to him repeatedly that it could be so much more, and so much better, than that?  And why, if he was so frightened, did he still want her with almost every breath he took?  

            _What the fucking hell is wrong with me_?  His fists clenched and unclenched in frustration and his tail drummed erratically on the ground beside him.  He wasn't even aware of the low growl rumbling through his chest.

            He couldn't even say for sure if being with her was a good thing.  He knew he wanted it, despite his uncertainty.  But if he stood back and looked objectively at it, at them, could he honestly say that it was a good idea?  When they were together it seemed so easy.  Even much of the time when they were apart all he could think of was how right it felt to be with her.  But honestly, if he forced himself to be objective, could he really claim that this was right, or fair, for either of them?

            _How long will she keep her innocence, and how long can I keep my secrets, if we go on this way_?  His tail thrashed restlessly again and he rolled onto his stomach with another muted growl.  He pillowed his head on his crossed forearms and inhaled the damp, loamy smell of the earth beneath him as he tried to settle his nerves.  _Not long, was the only answer he found.  _Not long at all, on either count_._

            Last night she'd half-jokingly told him that she hadn't come to him 'pure', that he wasn't the first to 'corrupt her innocence.'  The joke had, if anything, backfired.  It had only served to highlight how innocent and naive she really was.  

            She had absolutely no concept of corruption.  How could she, living the life she had. And he wasn't really sure that he could bear to watch that innocence die if she was exposed to the ugliness he'd known.  It was hard enough seeing how their exposure had hurt her, hurt all his friends, and watching her continue to struggle with the pain of her family's situation made him ache for her even more.  

            Her parents had decided to move, leaving the house they'd lived in since her birth, in an effort to get away from the anti-mutant sentiment among their neighbors.  She'd cried for most of an hour after they told her, while he and Jean, and even Rogue, had tried to comfort her.  Afterward, she'd finally confessed her fear of the protestors at the gates, of the hate filled or frightened stares of students and teachers alike at school.  She thought she'd learned how frightening a place the world could be, but she really had no idea.  He hoped she never did.

            "Oh Gott, why does everything always have to be so verdammt hard?" he snarled into the silence of the wood.  His tail ceased its restless twitching and twined firmly around one leg, tightening and loosening rhythmically in a nervous gesture from his childhood.

            _There's no way I can keep everything from her.  Not if we continue as we've begun_, he thought with something very close to despair.  _I've already let her too close, let too much slip and I'm a fucking waste as a liar._

            He could see the questions in her eyes sometimes when she looked at him.  She hadn't forgotten a single one of his slip-ups, she was just biding her time and waiting for an opportunity to ask the questions she'd been cataloging.  He knew her too well to believe otherwise.  

            When she finally decided the time was right would he be able to mislead her?  Put her off?  Or would he be cornered?  Which was worse, really, lying to her, or watching the disgust creep into her eyes if he told her the truth?  Maybe part of the truth would satisfy her?  The most palatable part.

            He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.  _Is this train of thought really serving any useful purpose?  He flipped irritably onto his back again, arms behind his head.  __Do I really have any intention of giving her up?  _

            He tried unsuccessfully to suppress a jaw-cracking yawn, settling instead for covering his mouth with the spade of his tail.  _At least the verdammten thing has its uses.  He let his gaze drift back to the patchwork of leaves and sky above as he tried to relax and throw off his gloomy mood._

            It wasn't all that big a surprise that he was tired in the middle of the day.  It had been a long, hard week.  Normally, his almost inexhaustible energy would cope adequately with the fact, but he was still having the nightmares and, while they weren't as vivid or as frequent, they were still sufficient to deprive him of anything resembling a decent night's sleep.  They didn't send him reeling out of bed to vomit or spend the rest of the night in the Danger Room anymore.  In fact, he hadn't been in the DR except for his normally scheduled workouts since Sunday.  It was an improvement, certainly, but he was beginning to wonder with some despair if they would ever go completely away again.

            He felt another yawn creeping up on him and didn't bother to fight it this time.  Instead, freeing one hand, he covered his mouth and then checked his watch again before resuming his previous position.  _Still just quarter of five.  Plenty of time to rest for just a few moments_.

            He let his eyes slip shut as he focused on the beating of his heart, the even ebb and flow of his breath, the soft whisper of the wind through the surrounding trees....  Gradually, he felt the tension drain from him to be replaced by a warm, heavy-limbed feeling of lassitude.  A few minutes rest would be a...very...good...thing....

            Kitty flipped her still-damp pony-tail off the back of her neck as she headed down the back steps and across the now almost complete rear garden.  She was more than a little annoyed that Mr. Logan had refused to cancel the training session.  Everyone but she, Bobby, Amara and Ray had had the entire afternoon free.  Her recent conversation with her parents certainly hadn't improved her mood either.

            "Hey Kitty!  Want to play some mutant ball?"  Evan's voice carried from the newly surfaced basketball court where the boys, minus only Kurt and Scott, were gathered for one of their brutal games of powers basketball.  

            "No way!" she called back with a forced grin.  "Mr. Logan gave me all the exercise I need for one day thanks.  There's no way I'm going to get all hot and sweaty again just so I can get plastered at basketball.  Besides, you guys cheat!  I think I'll stick to taking a walk before dinner."

            "Fine.  Coward," Roberto called after her as she continued on her way.  His grin took any sting out of the words and she replied with a somewhat more natural smile of her own.  She was glad of all the new students.  They helped to lighten the general mood considerably.

            "I can live with that, mi Amigo," she turned to walk backwards as she spoke.  

            "Oho, listen to the bilingual senorita display her mastery of the Spanish language," he mocked, laughing.  "Your accent is atrocious Kitty.  You should let **me tutor you in Spanish instead of Kurt, you're picking it up with a German accent!"  He winked suggestively at her and his grin spread wider.**

            "The last time I let you help me with my Spanish **Senor**, you spent the entire time flirting.  Not to mention that you're not exactly legendary for your patience.  I think I'll stick with Kurt, thanks."

            "Guilty as charged, ¿Pero cómo yo podría resistir su belleza?" he replied.  The other boys pushed him good-naturedly around, teasing him for his inability to spend more than five minutes with **any female, even Ms. Munroe, without going onto flirt autopilot.**

            "Hey, speaking of the 'Crawler," Evan called as she turned to head out across the lawn to the woods.  "If you see him lurking around out there anywhere, tell him we've got a game up, wouldya?  He headed out right after the Prof let him off Ethics and I haven't seen him since.  He's probably sulking around in the orchard, beating himself up over breaking up with Amanda or something."

            "Yeah, whatever," she called noncommitally over her shoulder as she lengthened her stride.  "See you guys around dinner time." 

            She quickly left the noise of the resuming game behind as she veered slightly to the south, taking the most direct route to the spot where she hoped Kurt would still be waiting for her.  She'd told him five o'clock and it was almost ten past now, but her mom had called and there'd been no way to politely escape the conversation.  

            At least it had been somewhat better news than the last few times they'd spoken.  She'd found a new job, but they didn't know about Kitty, and she was going to keep it that way.

            "I'm sorry honey.  But I can't afford to be out of work anymore.  It's not that I'm ashamed of you, I just can't take the chance that they're anti-mutant."

            The conversation had deteriorated from there.  Apparently the first two real estate agents they'd contacted had been 'too busy' to handle listing their home and her father had fired the third when he'd suggested they fumigate the house before putting it on the market after hearing about Kitty.

            The final blow to what had been left of her fragile composure had come when her mom had hollered, "Dear, did you want to say anything to your kitten?"  

            Her father's voice had been muffled by distance, but not enough to keep her from catching every word of his response. 

            "Just tell her to keep her **and us out of the bloody news from here on out.  We can't afford any more of this god-damned mutant non-sense!"**

            There'd been an audible gasp on the other end of the line and Kitty had spoken quickly, before her mother had a chance to start excusing or justifying.

            "You know Mom?  I don't really have time to talk to Dad right now.  So...just, like, give him my love and tell him I'll, like, talk to him later, 'kay?"

            "Of course Dear," and she'd heard the relief in her mother's voice at the unexpected reprieve.  "I'll tell him.  You take care of yourself, darling.  All our love."

            "Mine too Mom.  'Bye."

            She'd stood in the hallway for five minutes, just starting at the phone, as she tried to get her tears under control.  She'd been glad that no one else was around so that she could keep this pain to herself.  It had been bad enough freaking out in front of Kurt the other day.  It hadn't bothered her so much that Jean and Rogue had been there, but she wanted to be strong for Kurt.  He had so much more to deal with than any of the rest of them yet he never complained.  She was still ashamed enough of her breakdown at the lake two weeks ago, there was no excuse for a repeat performance.

            She came back to herself with a start and, realizing that she'd come to the edge of the orchard already, slowed her pace.  Thinking about the conversation with her mother had brought the shame and frustration flooding back and she wanted to collect herself before she met Kurt.  There'd been days these last two weeks when she'd wished that she hadn't forced her family to abandon their subterfuge.  Days when she didn't want to know how **she** had destroyed their carefully constructed life.  Today was one of them.

            Taking deep, calming breaths as Ms. Munroe had taught them in yoga, she tried to let go of the roiling kettle of negative emotions that was threatening to overwhelm her.  She let her gaze shift to admire the myriad pink and white blossoms just beginning to adorn the neat rows of pear and apple trees.  As their heady scent flooded her senses, she felt some of the tension begin to drain from her.  Moving on, she quickly found the well-worn trail leading to the edge of the woods and then on to their usual gathering place.  Kurt was right, no one ever came in here unless they had to - no one except he and Logan anyway.

            It was cooler in the shade of the trees, though it was early enough in the year that it really wasn't much darker than on the lawn.  The first leaves just coming out on the trees gave the daylight a faintly greenish, filtered cast.  It was, she had to admit, much less intimidating than it had been in fall or winter.  Almost beautiful in fact.  Clumps of wildflowers that were never tolerated in the carefully manicured lawns of the Institute abounded in the shelter of the woods.  

            She was, she realized, still too keyed up to meet Kurt.  He'd sense it and she didn't want to have their time together be about her problems.  She slowed again, this time to gather a bouquet of delicate, vividly colored blooms as she walked, giving herself time to calm further. 

            Kurt had enough problems of his own, and she refused to add her own to them.  If anything, she was hoping that this time alone might give her an opportunity to try and draw him out on what was bothering him.  She was certain he wasn't sleeping well and the whole thing with his tail really had her worried.  Enough that she was starting to consider taking her concerns to the Professor, betrayal or not.  Something was seriously wrong there, she was sure of it.

            She gathered a last bundle of variegated blossoms and sighed in resignation.  She didn't want to turn their time alone together into an interrogation, but they'd had so little of it this week and she had so many questions eating at her.  There'd certainly be no chance to talk with him tomorrow, not if they were spending the entire day in Jean and Scott's company.  

            She grimaced at the thought.  It wasn't that she didn't want to go.  It was really very considerate, not to mention generous, of the Professor to give his 'senior students' a say in the final refurnishing of the mansion.  

            Sending the four of them into the City to make the final decisions on an assortment of accessories and fixtures was, he said, only a small gesture, considering that the Institute was really as much their home as it was his and she appreciated the thought, really she did.  Two weeks ago she would have been foaming at the mouth as badly as Amara at the chance to go - especially considering the dinner reservations at an up-scale Manhattan bistro and tickets to one of Broadway's more popular shows.  But right now what she really would have preferred was the opportunity to spend the weekend with Kurt, trying to get all the strange and confusing odds and ends of their strange and confusing relationship sorted out. 

            Amara had been almost beside herself with jealousy when she found out.  Despite all her moaning and begging - especially when Rogue and Evan had declined the honor - she and the other New Recruits had to be satisfied with a budget to accessorize their rooms at the local mall and the explanation that seniority did, indeed, have its privileges.

            Kitty couldn't suppress a giggle at the memory of the disgusted look on the younger girl's face as she'd glared at Rogue and then stormed from the room.  She simply couldn't imagine how **anyone** could turn down an opportunity she would almost be willing to kill for.  

            Tucking the final additions to her bouquet neatly into her arms Kitty marveled at the sheer multitude she'd managed to collect in such a short time.  She smiled as she wondered just what Kurt would make of her when she arrived, laden with flowers.  Speaking of which...she glanced at her watch.  _Eep!  Almost five-thirty, time to get a move on.  _

6

¿Pero cómo yo podría resistir su belleza? - but how could I resist your beauty?  Blame my hubby if this is wrong, as I'm relying on his somewhat rusty knowledge of Spanish grammar (he disagreed w/freetranslation.com and I decided to go with him).  Oh, and feel free to tell me how to say it properly if it is wrong.


	18. Into the Woods

Okay, it's been a while, but here's chapter 18.  Hope you guys are still out there reading.  Thanks for all the wonderful reviews.  They keep me coming back to plug away at this when my confidence gets low.  

You should all be glad, I've finally acquired myself a beta reader.  Thanks much to Sue Penkivech for going over this for me.  Hopefully I didn't scare her away and she'll come back and do it again for the next chapter.  

Warning - this is a LONG chapter, and fairly intense as well.  Hope you enjoy.

INTO THE WOODS

            Lengthening her stride again, Kitty came rapidly to the edge of the clearing by the 'meeting oak' - almost jogging in her haste by the time she arrived.  She had an apology already on her lips as she stepped out of the trees into the last of the afternoon sun at the clearing's edge.  An apology that died in her throat as she looked around, crushed, at the empty glade before her.  He hadn't waited.  Sure she was late, but...but he should have **known she'd come as soon as she could.  **

            _Why didn't he wait?  she thought, instantly despising the self-pitying whine in the back of her mind.  She felt a tell-tale burning begin behind her eyes and squeezed them shut against the tears that she would **not let fall.  She wouldn't cry just because he hadn't waited for her.  She just...wouldn't.**_

            Taking a deep breath she opened her eyes, valiantly ignoring the two fat tears that trailed down her flushed cheeks.  She cast a last, forlorn glance around the empty woods, her eyes sliding almost sightlessly across the place beneath the oak where she'd expected him to be waiting.  Almost sightlessly...but not quite.  

            A flicker of movement in the shade at the base of the tree caught her attention and she stepped closer, squinting against the filtered sunlight in the clearing as peered into the darkness on the other side.  There it was again.  She felt her face crease in a grin as she identified the source of the movement - a gently swaying blue tail.  Further scrutiny revealed that it was undulating languidly in the air above its owner, who appeared to be sound asleep in the grass at the base of the tree.

            _I think I could get really sick of the disappearing into shadows thing,  she thought, barely suppressing a snort of irritation.  _Jeez, it's not like he's even wearing dark colors_._

            And it was true.  Khakis and a light blue button-down should **not** have been near invisible in the light shade beneath the oak.  On anyone else they wouldn't have been. 

            _On Kurt they might as bloody well be camo.  I just wish I knew how the heck it works.  She was still smiling, despite her irritation, as she stepped quietly across the open ground.  She took pains to make no noise that might wake him.  __He looks so darn cute lying there, and he needs the sleep.  Besides, her smile turned into a wicked grin, _how can I pass up this kind of opportunity?  Bobby and Ev'd **kill for this shot**_._

            She took quick stock of the flowers in her arms as she came to a halt at his feet, glad she hadn't dropped them in her distress.  _Too bad I don't have a camera.  This would make a great blackmail opportunity_.

            She stood for a moment, studying his sleeping form and considering just where to begin.  So long as he didn't wake before she was finished, it should be well worth the effort.  She was so lost in thought that she didn't even notice the purposeful movement of his tail until a warm velvet rope wrapped firmly around her forearm.  She looked down in surprise and then up again just in time to meet a pair of laughing golden eyes as a gentle tug overbalanced her and sent her tumbling gracelessly into his outstretched arms, accompanied by a shriek of surprise and a cascade of flowers.

            "For me liebchen?" he asked in a throaty purr as he swept up a small handful of colorful blooms and waved them in front of her face.  "I've never had a girl bring me flowers before.  I am _terribly flattered."  His voice was light and playful and she could envision his Cheshire Cat grin without even having to look up and see it.  She couldn't quite decide whether to be more irritated or amused until he turned his head to meet her eyes, smirking just as she'd known he would be, and asked, "You didn't actually think you were going to sneak up on me, did you?  I've known where you were since you first entered the woods." _

            "You mean you weren't even asleep?" she asked in an incredulous squeal.  "You knew I was there the whole time you...you faker!"  She was grinning now too - she couldn't help it, his amusement was infectious.  Besides, she enjoyed the easy camaraderie of his banter.  The feel of his strong, warm body stretched out beneath her certainly didn't hurt either.

            "How could I not have known, Liebe?  You sounded like an expeditionary force coming through the trees."  The way his lips twitched as he tried, without success, to suppress his grin took what little sting there was out of his words.  None the less she put on a stern expression and mustered all the indignation she could manage under the circumstances.  "I did **not sound like an...an ****expeditionary force Fuzzy!  It's just those darn pointy ears of yours - you're almost as bad as Mr. Logan."**

            "Liebe, you are many things, but stealthy is not one of them.  You woke me as soon as you reached the edge of the woods.  And with all the stomping and scuffling I really didn't need enhanced senses.  Even Jamie would have had trouble missing your arrival."  
  


            "Not stealthy?"  She pushed up to kneel above him, eyes dancing with mischief and picking idly at the flowers still caught in his disheveled indigo hair.  "I'll have you know, Kurt Josef Wagner, that I can be as _stealthy as you if I want to be.  I just...wasn't trying."  Okay, so it was a lie.  She knew it, he knew it, but what else could she say to a comment like that?  Besides, she didn't want to stop the teasing just now, didn't want to move on to more complicated things._

            A raised eyebrow and a disbelieving snort were, all in all, a less than flattering response, but pretty much what she'd expected.  She chose to take them as a challenge.  

            "You don't believe me?  Fine then, I'll prove it."  The words were out of her mouth before she even realized the thought had crossed her mind.  _Oh great, now I'm going to have to stay out of sight long enough to at least not humiliate myself_.

            His other eyebrow crept up to join the first.  _How the heck does he do that?  _

            "And exactly how do you plan to do that, meine liebe?" 

            She almost pinched him just to get the self-satisfied smirk off his face.  Instead she restrained herself and looked speculatively at the sky and the shadows stretching between the trees before answering.  It was still quite light - she guessed they had at least an hour, maybe more, before it became dark beneath the trees.  They'd probably miss dinner, but now that Mrs. Ramirez was back there were bound to be plenty of leftovers in the commercial fridge in the main kitchen.  

            _Oh well, what the hell._

            "You.  Me.  Hide and seek.  Here and now," she announced cheerfully.  "I'll hide and you have to find me - but you have to go by sound only.  If I'm as noisy as you claim it'll be a piece of cake."

            "Hide and seek?" he repeated, his face blank and his tone somewhat disbelieving.  "We're **alone for the first time all week," he lifted his hips slightly for emphasis and her eyes widened slightly as her breath caught in her throat, "and ****you want to play _hide und seek_?"  Sitting astride his hips as she was, she was acutely aware of his...interest...in her.  She had no doubt of exactly what he'd had planned for their time alone, and really, she didn't object in the least, but she was actually having fun for what felt like the first time in a long while.**

            "Yep!" she grinned and answered with as much enthusiasm as she could manage given that her weight was resting directly over his all too obvious erection.  He blinked up at her for a moment and she wondered if she'd miscalculated.  _Does he think I've completely lost my mind?  Then his face broke slowly into an answering grin as he sat up in a rain of flowers, catching her effortlessly against his chest as she tumbled backwards._

            "Hide and seek it is, meine schonheit," he agreed, laughing, before crushing her lips in a brief, burning kiss.  Then he was surging gracefully to his feet and taking her with him.  "How high do you want me to count?" he asked, setting her lightly on her feet.  "Will one hundred do?"

            She took a moment to catch her breath before answering.  "One hundred's fine Fuzzy.  Just remember, you're going by sound only and **no powers."**

            "I shall endeavor to keep that most firmly in mind Kaetzchen."  He seized her hand gently in one of his own and placed a feather light kiss in the center of her palm.  Such a simple thing, something he'd done jokingly countless times before and she'd brushed off just as often, but now...she felt her breath come short for a moment and wondered if she **really wanted to waste any of their time together on a child's game.  Before the thought had time to fully form though, he was pushing her gently away and closing his eyes.**

            "Go on Liebe," he told her, gleaming fangs bright in his indigo face.  "You'll need all the time you can get, but rest assured that it will be a very short game."

            "Oh you...."  She cut off and turned to go as he began to count slowly in German.  He was **so** going to pay for his over-confidence.  If not now, then later for sure.

            Kurt was more than a little surprised at his own enthusiasm for Kitty's game.  It wasn't at all how he'd expected to spend their time together, but...it was amazingly good to see that smile on her face, the mischief in her eyes - and oh the challenge in her voice.  Too bad it was going to be such a brief and humiliating experience for her.  It was, truth be told, good to forget everything else and just play.  _And besides_, he thought as a wicked smirk spread across his face, _it's not as if this game is going to last very long - and there is something to be said for the thrill of the chase._

            It shouldn't take much more than four or five minutes to disabuse her of the delusion that she could actually _hide_ from him.  His senses might be nowhere near as acute as Logan's, but they would be more than sufficient to lead him straight to her.  _It's just as well I didn't tell her that I caught her scent on the breeze as well.  She might have tried to limit me to sniffing her out, and that wouldn't be nearly so easy - not unless the wind's blowing just right anyway_.

            "Funfundneunzig, sechsundneunzig...."  He let his voice boom out across the trees as he neared the end.  He wanted her to have plenty of warning that he was coming.  He'd been listening closely ever since she'd made her way out of the clearing and he was fairly certain of the direction to begin looking.  Even over his own loud counting, he'd been able to catch the faint rustle of branches and snap of twigs as she moved cautiously to the south.  Had it been fall rather than spring the task would have been even easier as she tried to make her way through dry underbrush.  At least everything now was green and supple.

            "Hundert!"  He bellowed for her benefit.  "Ready or not, here I come."

            In the silence that followed he kept his eyes closed and stood still, just listening.  He wondered briefly if she realized that her insistence on no powers was far more of a handicap for herself her than it was for him.  When intangible she was, after all, absolutely silent.  Now, however...a slow grin twitched at the corners of his mouth as he caught the tell-tale sound of feet shifting restlessly.  As he'd hoped, the sudden silence must have unnerved her and she was having trouble keeping absolutely still.

            He started cautiously in her direction - south, just as he'd thought - his bare feet almost noiseless as they moved through the new spring growth.  As he approached her hiding place he could hear the sound of her light, even breathing join the intermittent shuffling of her feet.  A few more steps and he could see the tree she must be hiding behind.  His smile grew wide in triumph and he suppressed a chuckle as he glanced at his watch.  No more than three minutes so far.  Still moving silently, he placed one hand on the rough bark of the tree trunk and leaned around it to stare into wide, startled blue eyes.

            "You," he announced cheerfully, "are it," and he leaned in closer for a swift kiss in lieu of tagging her.

            The surprise in her eyes had been replaced by mischief again by the time he pulled back, and now he did laugh.  "No contest Liebe," he told her.  "None at all."

            "You better not have cheated Fuzzy," she told him warningly as she pulled away from him to look, laughing, into his eyes.  Her ponytail bounced as she tossed her head in aggravation and he reached out to give it a gentle tug.

            "Me cheat?  Never!" he proclaimed indignantly.  "Well, not too often anyway," he qualified quickly, golden eyes dancing as he let his mouth tip into an impish grin.  "And only when I'm **certain** that Logan won't find out," he added in a broad stage-whisper.  "Besides Liebe," and he leaned in closer again, "why would I need to cheat when you sound like a herd of wildebeast thundering across the plains?"

            He jumped back just in time to avoid the slap that he'd guessed was coming and grinned at her irked expression.  

            "You insufferable little **snot**!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing and her brows drawing together in irritation.

            "But you love me anyway, ja?" and laughing, he danced back out of her reach.

            "I'll give you a herd of wildebeast!  Will you just stand still so I can smack you one?" she demanded, lunging for him again.

            "What kind of question is that Liebe?" he asked, still staying just out of range as she began to chase him through the trees.  "I have much too well-developed a sense of self-preservation to respond to that."

            She might be laughing and this might be a game, but that didn't necessarily mean that she wouldn't smack him around a bit if she got her hands on him - all in good fun of course, but he could do without it really.  It was good though, to hear the laughter in her voice and see the color in her cheeks as she dodged through the trees after him.  There'd been too little of that around the mansion lately.

            "Come on Kurt, I won't hurt you -- much," she called breathlessly as he ducked behind a tree.  She looked positively predatory as she stalked him and he couldn't keep the grin off his face.  The blood was positively singing through his veins as he spun and danced to keep just barely out of her reach.

            "It's that 'much' that worries me, Schatz.  I need all the bits I have, thanks, and I don't really want to find out just what you mean by 'much.'"

            "Chicken!"

            "I prefer to think of it as discretion!" he replied as he ducked behind yet another tree.

            He waited for her response but none was immediately forthcoming.  In the sudden silence he realized that the sound of her footsteps and her breathless laughter had both ceased.  He put two and two together quickly, but not quickly enough.  He was just tensing to 'port to safety when a slender hand darted out of the tree trunk directly in front of him and clutched at the front of his shirt.  It was shortly followed by the rest of Kitty Pryde, eyes alight and face fixed in a triumphant smile.

            "Scheisse!" he exclaimed as he tried unsuccessfully to backpedal out of her grip.  "What happened to no powers Kaetzchen?"

            "That's what you get for getting cocky Fuzzy," she positively crowed.  "And no powers was for hide and seek - **that was tag."**

            She was so obviously pleased with herself that he couldn't quite manage to be truly irritated with either her or his miscalculation.  Instead, he decided to play up to her triumph - and perhaps distract her from any desire to cause him bodily harm, serious or otherwise.

            "Please don't hurt me," he quavered in his best approximation of the helpless heroine from a bad melodrama - which wasn't very good, truth to tell, if only because of the laughter he couldn't quite suppress.  The effort wasn't wasted though, as she caught on quickly and joined in - admittedly with more enthusiasm than skill.  Twirling an imaginary mustache, she smirked evilly and used her continued hold on his shirt front to spin him roughly and push him back against the tree.

            "Oh, like I said, I won't hurt you -much - my dear."  She'd pitched her voice as low as she could get it, which wasn't very, and was trying with even less success than he'd had to sound cold and menacing.  His laughter finally broke out in breathless peals at the warped image of a Dudley Doright cartoon that the whole exchange brought to mind.  Her continued attempt to look menacing certainly didn't help.

            "Oh Gott, you should...you should have seen...your face!" he managed to gasp out between thoroughly undignified fits of giggles as he collapsed back against the tree, pulling her with him by dint of her continued hold on his shirt front.  Not that he minded in the least.  The feel of her pressed up against him like that was well worth a minor, and rather amusing, defeat at her hands.  Hands that suddenly let go their grip on his shirt front and drifted down to settle firmly on his hips.  

            His laughter faded to gasps as she stretched slightly up on tiptoe, steadying herself with her hands, and tipped her head back to brush her lips lightly along his jaw.  He could smell her now, soap and shampoo overlain with a musky hint of sweat and all three mingled with the fresh scent of spring all around.  Leaning down to meet her he let his eyes slip shut as their lips met...and parted...and oh God he loved that hint of strawberries.

            She pressed herself more tightly against him and he gasped at the feel of her knee slipping between his thighs, her softly rounded hip pressing into his groin.  He drew her bottom lip between his teeth, nipping it lightly and then soothing the spot with a soft pass of his tongue.  His hands lowered of their own accord to cup her backside, using the grip to clutch her more tightly to him.  So close now, he could feel the beating of her heart where her breasts pressed against his chest.

            As he took her weight on his hands she shifted her grip, sliding her hands around and down across his ass before letting them slip up the back of his shirt where it had come untucked during their chase.  He didn't even try to stop the purr that started in his chest as she dug her nails through the short nap of his fur and dragged them up along his back, forcing their way between him and the rough bark of the tree at his back.

            He felt her lips curve against his in a smile at the same time that her body began to vibrate with laughter.  He pulled back in surprise, smiling bemusedly down at her.  "Was ist so funny Kaetzchen?" he asked, his voice low and rough.  Her only answer was to pull her hands out of his shirt, slap him lightly on the ass and push herself sharply out of his grip, laughing like a maniac.

            "Tag," she managed to gasp out as she staggered back out of his reach, a truly wicked smile on her face.  "You are **so it."  **

            "Kaetzchen," he began, somewhat exasperated now as he stepped away from the tree to come after her - or tried to anyway.  One step and he was jerked back against the tree trunk, his head connecting painfully with it.

            "Was machst du da fur scheisse?" he exploded in surprise as her laughter redoubled.

            "Don't take too long Fuzzy!" she called out as she turned and darted away.  "You don't want me to get too big a head start, do you?"  Her voice drifted back as she disappeared in the shadows between the trees.

            "Kaetzchen!  Kitty!?"  He twisted and squirmed, unable to get far enough from the tree to turn and see what held him.  "Come back here you little minx!  This isn't funny!"

            The only answer was her laughter drifting back through the trees.

            "Scheisse," he mumbled in frustration as he finally stopped struggling and thought to use his tail to probe behind him.  A moment's exploration confirmed what he had begun to suspect - she'd phased the backs of both his shirts right into the tree trunk.  He struggled not to smile at her prank - after all, she wasn't there to see it anyway, and it was one of the best anyone had managed to pull on him. 

            "You are going to pay for this Liebe," he bellowed at the top of his lungs as he began to unbutton his outer shirt.  "Just wait until I catch you!"

            He made short work of squirming out of his over-shirt, but no matter how he contorted he couldn't get out of the tee-shirt underneath. 

            "Ah fuck it!" he finally snarled in frustration as he ripped the damn thing open from neck to hem.  "Oh you are **so going to pay for that Kaetzchen," he growled under his breath as he took off on all fours, running full-speed in the direction he'd last heard her voice.**

            It was significantly harder to find her this time.  She'd obviously learned her lesson and used the time he'd spent struggling out of her little trap to get as far away as possible before she'd begun phasing to confuse her trail.  As often as not it was the sound of her laughter drifting through the warm spring twilight that would set him on her trail again as he stood, staring at the spot where her tracks just disappeared.  It was only a matter of time though.  He knew these woods intimately and the growing dark beneath the trees was no handicap to him.  

            She led him a merry chase through the trees for a good ten minutes or more, though, phasing and changing direction every few minutes, but always moving in a generally southward direction.  It was more than long enough for his heart to begin to pound in his ears and his blood to sing with the thrill of the chase.  

            When he finally found her she was leaning heavily on a tree, catching her breath.  Silken tendrils of hair had escaped her pony tail and, even in the dimness he could see how her face was streaked with dirt and flushed with exertion.  He crouched, hidden in the tree above her, watching her chest heave as she panted with the effort she'd put into escaping him and trying to control the burning in his veins.  Finally, when he simply couldn't take it anymore, he dropped almost soundlessly to the ground behind her.

            "Tag," he growled, low voiced into her ear as he slipped his arms around her from behind.  She screeched and tried to jump in surprise but he paid it no mind.  He simply held her tightly to him and buried his face in the warmth and the damp wisps of hair at the nape of her neck, breathing in the musky sweet scent of her exertion mingled with the residual perfumes from her shower.  

            "You.  Are.  It." he murmured hoarsely against her skin before sinking his fangs into the tender flesh of her neck - not hard enough to draw blood, but so close...oh so close.

            He could feel her heart race as she shivered slightly in his arms, a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature on this warm spring evening.  She pushed back against him and tipped her head down and to the side to give him better access to the smooth expanse of her threat.

            "Took you long enough, Fuzzy," she gasped as he took the invitation.  He could smell the desire coming off her in waves now almost as clearly as he could hear it in her voice.  There was no way she was going to get away from him this time, and he tightened his grip on her possessively, growling low in his chest, before forcing himself to ease off.  

            He had to be sure before things went any farther.  He could tell from the heat in his veins and the way his senses threatened to overwhelm him that he was dangerously close to going feral on her.  If he didn't pull back and cool off now he'd have trouble controlling himself, trouble stopping if that's what she wanted.  He couldn't afford any misunderstandings when his blood was up like this.

            "Is this what you want Liebe?" he forced out, pulling back slightly as she turned in his arms.  Oh Gott, her breasts brushed against his bare arm and chest and he **really wished she hadn't done that.  "Here and now, is this...is this all right?"  His voice was a low, rumbling growl and the sound of it was disconcerting even to his own ears.**

            She looked mutely up at him, eyes wide with something he couldn't quite fathom, and he wondered just what she saw as she examined him so intensely.  He almost held his breath as he waited for her answer, fighting tooth and nail against the urge to shove her back against the tree behind her and....  He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking with the effort of holding back and fearing that she'd seen it in his eyes, seen his control flickering like a guttering candle flame.  

            She was silent so long that he was certain that she had, that it had frightened her and he began to draw away, uncertain now, though the singing in his veins urged him on.

            And then he felt her move, just slightly.  He opened his eyes to see her peering up at him from beneath the dark sweep of her lashes as the corners of her mouth quirked slowly up in a very...inviting...smile.

            "You even have to ask, Fuzzy Elf?"  Her voice was husky and  her hands were tangling in his hair, pulling him down to meet her lips, hot and demanding against his own.  It didn't matter now where they were, only that they were together and she was warm and willing in his arms.

            Kitty wasn't sure what held her silent for so long.  But for a moment that felt like forever she could do nothing but look into the burning gold of his eyes, their contrast to the deep indigo of his face even more pronounced in the early twilight of the woods.  There was something almost frightening in the intensity of his gaze and she wondered if she hadn't pushed things too far with her little game, if she hadn't prolonged the chase too long.  She wanted to admire her handiwork in ridding him of his shirts, but she couldn't tear her eyes from his face, from the look of raw need in his eyes warring with the rigid tension evident in the set of his jaw and the knitting of his brows.

            She'd never expected anyone to look at **her** that way.  That was a look reserved for great beauties like Jean or Rogue, not plain little Katherine Pryde and she wanted, perhaps, to burn the memory of it indelibly into her brain.  It wasn't until his eyes clenched shut and he began to shake and pull away that she realized how long she'd stood there, and how far she'd pushed him.  She was afraid her voice would come out in a squeak as she forced the words past the sudden constriction in her throat.  

            A few words, a smile, the touch of her hands at his neck and all his hesitation fell away.  His lips on hers, almost desperate in their intensity, set a fire in her blood as he pushed her, not _quite roughly against the tree at her back.  His hands were everywhere, or so it seemed, and she returned the attention enthusiastically, reveling in the warm expanse of velvet fur and taut muscles literally at her fingertips, only stopping her eager explorations when he began to fumble at the buttons on her shirt.  _

            _Note to self, no more button downs,  and she almost laughed at the thought._

            Mindful of the fate of her shirt the last time he'd had to struggle with buttons she batted his hands away and quickly took care of them herself.  She'd barely finished when he pushed her hands aside and slipped his own, warm and calloused and oh so tender, along her shoulders and down, taking her shirt and the straps of her bra with them. 

            At the gentle urging of his hands she moved away from the tree just far enough to allow them to slip behind her.  Deftly unhooking the clasp of her bra he let it drop to join her shirt on the ground at their feet.  A half-formed question drifted across her fogged brain at that, wondering just how he managed that with so little trouble when buttons completely defeated him.  A question that was driven entirely from her mind as he broke their kiss and shifted his attentions lower, murmuring huskily in what she assumed must be German.  It was hard to tell, as the only word she could make out was her name, but all of it in a tone of voice that made it more than clear what he was saying.

            She'd thought, before, that she might care that they were outside.  Might be self-conscious about the exposure, or uncomfortable in the open.  When it came down to it, though, she found she didn't really give a damn.  All that really mattered anymore was the hard heat of his body pressed against her, his muscles rippling and tensing beneath short velvet fur as she stroked every part of him she could reach and  the feel of his hands  and mouth on her as he caressed and explored everything **he** could reach.

            Every nerve in her body seemed to be tuned to his touch and the first pass of his tail across her belly and up her side drew a low, whimpering moan.  There was something about that extra, unexpected touch that that sent a shiver down her spine and stoked the heat building in her belly.  He dropped one hand to fumble at the waist of her pants and she mirrored his move as his tail continued its gentle, almost tentative explorations.  Up and across her collar bones, circling lightly at the hollow of her throat, tracing along the edge of her jaw.  It was such a sharp contrast to his hands - soft with fur and almost delicate - and she gasped and pressed into the touch, her breath coming in short gasps as it slipped up across her cheek and traced feather light along the shell of her ear.

            She knew she shouldn't, told herself not to, but as the velvet spade ghosted along her cheek and grazed her lips, but she simply couldn't resist.  Parting her lips she let her tongue flick out to caress the blunt tip before quickly drawing it between her teeth.  

            "Ach Gott!  Kaetzchen...." his voice came hoarse and rough and it sent a delicious chill down her spine.  

            Sagging against her with an explosive groan, he pressed his face into the hollow of her throat as his hands tightened convulsively where they had just settled on the bare flesh beneath her now loose jeans.  It took him only a moment to recover himself though, and then he was pressing against her with even greater urgency than before, his hands pushing down past her panties as he set to work on her neck with teeth and tongue.  She couldn't understand a word he said as he murmured against her, but it didn't really matter - the tone of his voice said it all.  That, combined with the low growl vibrating through his chest and into hers, set her heart to pounding a rapid staccato beat.

            If she'd thought about it - which she hadn't - this was not the response she would have expected, but it was certainly all she could have hoped for.  The crush of soft velvet fur against her breasts and belly as he pressed her back into the rough bark of the tree and the urgent grind of his hips against hers were all the invitation she needed.  He growled again, even deeper this time, as she renewed her attentions to his tail, which had remained lightly clasped between her teeth the entire time.  She let her tongue play along its edge as she scraped her teeth lightly, teasingly, down the center, amazed at how sensitive it appeared to be.

            She felt him sag against her again, for just a fraction of a second, gasping into her neck as though he'd just finished one of Mr. Logan's conditioning runs, before his hands shifted from her ass to fumbling almost frantically with the button of his own pants.  He was still gasping and murmuring in a fractured combination of unintelligible languages and his tail was twitching and writhing with his increasing agitation, though he made no move to actually pull it away.  With only her lips and teeth, however, she was having a hard time maintaining her tenuous hold on the wayward appendage, especially when a particularly violent spasm sent it flicking sharply away then back again.

            Without conscious thought, her hand shot out to secure it.  Seizing it in a firm grip no more than a foot from the spade she let her hand trail down its velvet length as she drew it close again, savoring the smooth ripple of muscle beneath her hand as she prepared to bring it to her lips.  "Come back here and hold you still you wiggly little devil," she gasped playfully into his hair.  A heartbeat later his response reminded her exactly why she shouldn't have done it.

            His tail jerked violently away and she could feel his whole body tense as he crushed her to him, one hand pushing roughly down the back of her jeans to get a grip on her bare ass while the other slipped around to cradle her shoulders so tight the air was driven from her lungs.  A deep bass rumble began in his chest and then broke out in a growl so low it was almost sub-vocal as he burrowed his head into the cradle formed by her neck and shoulder, his fangs digging sharply into the tender flesh.  She gasped at the pain, wondering if it was passion, rage or both that had set him to trembling and panting heavily for breath.  

            "Gott, nein!"  His voice was raw and choked and almost unrecognizable.  Thinking back on the look in his eyes that day at the lake, when he'd sent her away, she wondered what she would see there now if he looked up, or if she even wanted to know.  

            "Oh God, I'm sorry Kurt," she whispered into his hair, "I'm so, so sorry."

            He hadn't really been thinking about his tail - at least no more than he'd actually been **thinking about either of his hands.  They were all on auto-pilot, simply going where the spirit moved them, so to speak.  He was **aware** of its movements as an intensely pleasant sensation as the spade explored and stroked at bits of her his hands were too occupied to get to, but that was all, really.  At least until the pressure of her lips and teeth and tongue, the sensation of heat and moisture, sent a jolt of fire straight to his groin.  **

            He'd **never felt anything like it before.  It was incredible, and for a heartbeat his knees went weak and his eyes rolled back in his head as he fought to maintain some semblance of control.  He was only partly successful.  A feral growl he couldn't suppress was ripped from his chest and he buried his face against her neck as he struggled against the urgent signals his hind brain was trying to swamp him with.  **

            Some small, semi-rational corner of the aforementioned organ was trying to tell him that he should stop - now - before he lost control.  That she couldn't possibly know what she'd just let herself in for.  The rest of his brain, however, was much too occupied with how amazing it felt to be touched so...intimately...and with the desire to have it continue, whatever the cost.  

            And then she did it again and, oh Gott, he thought for a moment that he might pass out from the sheer sensory overload as he leaned into her, gasping for breath.  There was entirely too much fabric still between them and he shifted his hands to fumble frantically at the fastenings of his trousers, needing desperately to feel her, all of her, against and around him.

            He knew, vaguely, that he should be angry.  He'd told her repeatedly to never touch his tail.  But this...this was nothing like he'd ever felt or expected.  There was nothing of the past or darkness in it.  It was completely new and perhaps the most incredibly arousing sensation he'd ever experienced.  She could do that to him 'til Hell froze over and he'd never complain.

            He'd almost succeeded in freeing himself from the confines of pants that felt, at this point, at least two sizes too small in certain vital areas when everything changed.  The gentle, incredible teasing at the sensitive spade of his tail was replaced by a firm grip, farther down, and his whole body went tense, her voice echoing in his ears.  

            He didn't even hear the growl escape him.  As his fangs sank into smooth, unblemished skin, he barely maintained enough awareness to stop short of drawing blood.  Didn't notice as he began to tremble and pant for breath.  Had no idea what his hands were doing.  Only knew that he wanted her, oh Gott he wanted her so bad he could taste it.  But not like this.  Not out of control and not with...that...scrabbling at the corners of his soul.  Not like an animal..._devil....  _

            "Gott, nein!"  _Not a devil.  Not an animal, not...._

            Memory and nightmare merged with her words and that all too familiar touch on his tail.  He could feel himself spiraling out of control....

            The sound of her voice as she whispered raggedly into his hair broke through his panic, grounding him for the moment it took him to find the strength to push away.  He staggered back a step and dropped to the ground with a muffled thump, his knees sinking into the damp earth and his hands reaching down to grasp at tufts of grass as though they could somehow anchor him in place.  Strange, since what he wanted more than anything at that moment was to simply disappear.

            He would have, if he could have focused his mind sufficiently to choose a destination.  The best he could manage, though, was 'away.'  He just wanted to get away, but his survival instinct wouldn't let him 'port on that for anything short of life or death.  So instead he knelt there, head bowed, eyes screwed shut and sobbing for breath as he tried desperately to fix himself in the present.  No matter how painful and humiliating the present was, it was still infinitely preferable to where his panicked psyche was trying to take him.

            As she watched him collapse to the ground like a broken marionette she fought back incipient panic.  Something was **really wrong and she was afraid.  Afraid that whatever it was, she was hopelessly out of her league.  Afraid that it was her fault and she had no idea how to fix it.**

            She took a cautious step forward, tears stinging at her eyes as she tried to think of what to do, what to say.  She stopped in her tracks when he flinched violently at her approach, her heart clenching painfully at the obvious rejection.  Maybe she should call the Professor?  Maybe she couldn't handle this on her own and, more importantly, maybe he couldn't.  She looked at him through tear-blurred eyes - indigo fur blending into the lengthening shadows beneath the trees so that she had to focus to see that he was still shaking, that his tail was curled protectively around his knees and his hands were still clutching convulsively at the ground to either side.  He looked lost and frightened and she knew he'd despise for anyone to see him this way, probably hated that she was even there.  Maybe she couldn't handle this, but she had to try.

            "Kurt?"  Her voice cracked painfully on the sob that she refused to let escape.  His head jerked at the sound, indigo silk hair swirling around his face at the abrupt motion, but he didn't look up.  Wouldn't meet her eyes.

            She cleared her throat and tried again, pleased that her voice, though hesitant and shaky, was at least somewhat under her control this time.  "Kurt.  Please...please tell me what's wrong.  Please let me help you."

            His only response this time was to lower his head further and rock back on his heels, drawing fractionally away from her.  His breathing was still ragged and panicked and she worried that at any moment she would find herself talking to nothing more than a cloud of smoke.

            "Please," she tried again.  "I'm so sorry Kurt.  I...I didn't mean for...I mean....  Please.  Just please let me help you.  Tell me what's wrong."  

            Her voice had broken almost completely now and she couldn't stop the tears that were streaming down her face as she hugged herself against a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature, barely even aware that she was still shirtless in the encroaching twilight.

            His voice was so ragged and so...unexpected...when he finally spoke that she almost jumped.  "Not...not your fault Kaetzchen," he managed to rasp out.  "I'm sorry Liebe.  It's **not your fault.  Just please...please don't ask...please let it go...."  His voice had gained some strength as he spoke and he finally looked up at the end.  Not enough to meet her eyes, but enough for her to catch a flash of burnished gold beneath the tangled fall of hair hiding his face.  Just enough for her to catch a glimpse of the emotions he was obviously trying to conceal.  **

            She wasn't sure just when she'd gotten so accomplished at reading his expressions, but it had happened somewhere along the line and now she caught her breath at what that brief glimpse had shown her.  Pain.  Fear.  Anger.  Shame.  She'd put those there.  She wasn't sure why or how, but it was her responsibility and it clawed at her heart.  

            God, she couldn't take it - couldn't bear it if she somehow ruined the one good thing in her life right now, the one thing that was keeping her sane in the madhouse that was her life.  She couldn't let it go, no matter what he asked.  Not this time.  She'd let too much go in her life, hoping that if she ignored it it would get better or go away.  The problem was, it never worked.  It never had, it never would, and she wasn't going to lose him, lose what they had, to the slow, festering resentment of untold secrets and unspoken pain.  

            "No," she snapped, much harsher than she'd intended.  His head jerked up at her tone, surprise overlaying a welter of other emotions in his eyes.  "No.  I **won't** let it go.  I won't...I can't...I...."

            She paused, gasping for breath and surprised at the ferocity of her own response.  She stooped to snatch her shirt from the ground, more to cover the extremity of her emotion than because she really cared about being unclothed.  She was pretty much beyond caring about that at this point.  By the time she looked up he had averted his gaze again, staring fixedly at the ground in front of him.  The only difference from his earlier posture was that his tail now lashed behind him in obvious agitation - and she was fairly certain that was caused by anger.  Fine, let him be angry with her, but she was going to get some answers - or else.

            "Fine!  I fucked up - royally.  I'm sorry."  She'd started strong again, and he'd begun to look up, but her voice had trailed away again on her last words.  Taking a deep breath she dug down for the anger she needed to get her through this, to break the barrier he was erecting between them.  "Kurt, you can either trust me or you can dump me - it's one or the other!  I'm closer to you than I've...than I've **ever been to anyone in my life.  You know almost everything there is to know about me - all my secrets and my dreams, but sometimes I feel like I hardly know you at all.  Please!  Please, trust me.  Please tell me what's wrong.  Let me help."**

            For a long moment she thought he was going to ignore her - that or bamf away and leave her alone in the near-dark.  He took a deep, shuddering breath and she was more than half convinced that it was simply in preparation to 'port.  But then he looked up, slowly, his eyes burning with anger and brimming with unshed tears as he glared at her through the wispy veil of hair hanging across his features.

            "Why Kaetzchen?" he ground out through clenched teeth.  "Sharing the pain doesn't help anything.  It just worries and frightens others."

            "What?  Do you think I'm **not frightened or worried now?"  She couldn't keep the incredulity out of her voice.  He didn't want to ****frighten her?  "Look at yourself Kurt.  You're a fucking ****wreck because I...**touched** you and I have **no idea** why.  At least tell me why.  Let me help you.  How bad can it be to just let me help you?"**

            "What is the point?" he fairly exploded, his face twisting with a rage that drove her back a step.  "How can you help?"  He squeezed his eyes shut and she watched as the first tear slipped with deceptive gentleness down one fuzzy cheek, holding her breath at the violence of his response.

            "Can you get rid of this?" his voice broke as his tail lashed forward so rapidly that she flinched away from the resulting whip crack.  "Or these?"  He held shaking hands out before him, palms turned up in a mockery of supplication.

            "What is the point Kaetzchen?  How will confiding in you change...change anything...anything other than to...to...."  He was gasping for breath now, his breathing so  fast and shallow that she feared he would hyperventilate.  Suddenly his eyes snapped open and he lurched jerkily to his feet, his usual grace totally absent.  

            "Gott!  Look at me Kaetzchen!" he demanded, his voice a harsh, angry growl.  "Look at me.  Why don't I want you to touch my tail?  Why would you want to?  My Gott, what human being has a **tail?"**

            She stood, stunned and speechless at his outburst.  This was **not** the Kurt Wagner that she knew, that anyone here knew.  There was nothing of the laughing, gentle, self-effacing prankster here.  He radiated anger and bitterness and still, behind it all, a fear and pain that he couldn't quite cover no matter how hard he tried - and he was all too obviously trying.  She took a step forward, hand outstretched, but stopped as he backed away, tail still whipping the air behind him and still trembling with what she was coming to suspect was much more fear than anger.

            She didn't really know where to start, so she addressed his last question first.  "You have a tail, Kurt, and you are as much a human being as anyone else here.  It's just...just part of **you**.  Like the fur and the eyes and...and everything else about you.  They're just you - and I love you."

            "Just me," he snorted derisively and his head dropped.  "Just the freak."  He looked up again, and her heart lurched at the look of dull pain in his eyes.  "Look at me Kaetzchen.  If this," he gestured at himself, "is supposed to look like a human being then Gott was playing a very cruel practical joke, because I've never seen anyone else who looks like this.  Have you?  Human beings don't have fur, don't have fangs, don't have verdammt **tails**!  This," he fumbled blindly at the watch on his wrist and she held back a strangled sob as the 'public' Kurt Wagner shimmered into view.  "This is what a human being looks like Kitty," his voice was soft now, weary and defeated.  "This," the holographic image disappeared and he stood before her in all his blue furry glory, "is what an animal looks like."

            He didn't know why he was speaking to her this way.  He wished he did, wished he could make it stop.  Wanted nothing more than to take back every hateful, angry word and forget they'd ever been uttered.  

            He felt like something had broken, some barrier had been breached, and he had no more control over the torrent of words and emotions swamping him than he did over a river in snowmelt.  He remembered once, so very long ago, the feeling of being caught up in the icy current, tossed and battered and totally helpless against the water's raging power.  He felt much the same now, but this time there was no one rushing to his rescue.  No strong hand was going to reach into the icy torrent and pull him to safety.  And this time he'd have no one to blame but himself when he was sucked under.  If only it could be literal as well as figurative.

            He couldn't face her as he felt the faint crackle of static that told him the inducer was off.  Couldn't meet her eyes as the hated words were wrung from him, almost, it seemed, against his will.  He hadn't even realized that he had this anger, this self-hatred in him and it made him sick with horror to realize that she was standing there, watching him spin out of control.  He was tensing himself to 'port, still not sure of where to go, but certain that he had to get away, when he was rocked back on his heels by the force of her slap.

            He looked up at that, shocked to the core, and met angry blue eyes, streaming with tears but burning into his nonetheless.  His hand crept up to probe at his stinging cheek.  No doubt about it, she had a good arm on her.

            "Don't you **EVER** say that again!" she almost screamed at him, and he cringed away from the fury in her voice.  "Don't you **ever dare to...to compare yourself to an...an animal, Kurt Wagner.  "You are _not an animal.  You're **not**!  And whoever told you that was...was a fool and a...a **monster**. _**

            She held his gaze, unblinking despite her tears, and he couldn't bring himself to look away.  He felt the anger that he hadn't been able to anticipate or control melt slowly away under her unwavering gaze.  He felt drained and empty and dreadfully, morbidly ashamed.  With a soft moan he finally broke eye contact and sank back to the ground in a heap, still shivering in reaction.  He simply didn't have the energy to face her any longer.  He waited for the sound of her retreating footsteps, waited to be left alone with his shame and misery.  When they finally came, though, they were drawing closer.  

            He didn't even have the energy to flinch away as her grass-stained sneakers stopped just within his field of view, not even when she dropped to her knees in front of him.  Her voice, when she finally spoke, was soft, almost tentative, but there was an unmistakable note of command there as well.  His heart twisted painfully.  She expected a response and honestly, if she was still here after what he'd said and done, she probably deserved one - as much of one as he could manage anyway but Gott, how would he ever be able to face her again?  Things would never be the same, and he had no one to blame but himself.  

            "_Who told you that Kurt?  Who made you __believe that of yourself?"_

            She didn't know if he'd answer her.  After what he'd said and what she'd done, she wasn't sure he'd bother.  She thought her heart might break as she looked down at him, huddled in on himself and in such obvious pain.  Would he let her help him?  Was there even anything that she could do?  Maybe the hurt ran too deep.  

            This wasn't just him being miserable with his mutation - she'd watched and listened, really listened, every moment as he spoke.  Watched the play of emotions across his face, heard when his speech turned from unrehearsed fury to what sounded almost like something recited by rote.  That was when she'd lost her temper.  Hearing him speak of himself so, in that strange, cold, bitter voice.  

            The anger had bubbled up inside her and she'd struck him before she even realized what she was doing.  She wouldn't let _anyone say that about him - not even him.  Hee, hee – this sounds like almost a direct quote from Just Kids – just noticed that!  And then she'd watched the rage fade from his eyes, leaving only the shame and the pain, before he'd sunk to the ground yet again._

            Now she watched and waited as her question hung, unanswered, in the silence between them.  She'd almost given up hope.  Almost decided that her only option was to 'call' the Professor and hope that wiser heads than hers could somehow get to the bottom of this, because she was absolutely certain that it had to be addressed, somehow, by someone, before he tore himself apart.  And then his voice came, tense and almost whisper soft and ragged from both yelling and crying, his accent thick and getting thicker by the word.

            "I was...I was eight.  I'd only been with Der Jahrmarkt for...for a few weeks.  Two, maybe three...when Herr...when _Klaus_ first...."  

            His voice droned on, never much above a murmur, sometimes breaking and he'd have to pause, gasping for breath.  He never looked up, never took his eyes from his hands where they clenched and unclenched rhythmically on his knees.  Never saw her hands creep up to cover her mouth, or her eyes widen in sympathetic horror as the tears streamed down her cheeks.   His only other movement was the constant, erratic motion of his tail as it cut the air around and behind him or, occasionally, curled protectively around his body or his knees.  

            He couldn't bring himself to look at her as he forced the words out past the almost strangling constriction in his throat.  He couldn't bear to see the disgust or pity he knew would be there as he told her in halting, awkward, pain-choked bursts about Klaus.  About being...touched...and used...and...broken.  

            No one had known.  No one had _ever known...until now.  He'd been too frightened and then too ashamed to tell.  It wouldn't have mattered anyway.  Klaus had made it abundantly clear that no one would take the word of a freak, an animal, a demon from hell, over that of a valued member of the troupe and, more importantly, a __human.  _

            He'd used so many different tactics to control him over the years, though, not just that one.  The threat of sending him back to his parents had been powerful until, by the age of ten, he'd become one of the show's main draws, pulling in larger crowds than Der Jahrmarkt had ever seen before as people flocked to see the Amazing Nightcrawler.  A child who could do things on the highwire, and later the trapeze, that even veteran performers were afraid to attempt.  

            By then, though, Klaus hadn't actually needed any other hold than the paralyzing shame and the mute fear that he was right.  That he deserved everything he got and that it would never be any different, any better.

            "He, he always...used...mein tale.  Handled it...held me by it.  He said he...he liked to have his kleiner Tiger by its tail.  Usually...usually it just _hurt_," his voice cracked briefly into a higher register and he paused, eyes wide against the images in his head, teeth grinding audibly for a moment as he tried to find the words to continue.  

            "When I was...eleven...he found out he could...it could..."  He clenched his fists convulsively as his tail coiled so tightly around his arm that his hand began to go numb.  He wanted so badly to wake from this nightmare, to have it be over - to have it never have happened at all.  But now that he'd begun, the words didn't seem to want to stop, even when they had to squeeze past an almost crushing constriction in his throat.

            "He thought it was...humorous...that he could _make_ me...respond.  He said, he said he knew that I'd learn to...appreciate...his attention eventually."  His voice had diminished to a shamed whisper now, low enough that he could hear Kitty's shocked intake of breath at his words.  He cringed farther in on himself then, curling around the pain, clutching it to himself protectively.  It was, it seemed, the only thing he was likely to have left when this exercise in horror was complete.

            "Gott help me, I was so relieved when he stopped...seeking me out.  When I stopped having to worry about being caught alone or...or being sent to 'help' him with something.  I never...never thought about _why he'd lost interest in me.  Just thanked Gott that he had...took it as a gift.  I never thought that it might be...might be because he'd moved on...found another...._

            "He hadn't touched me in almost two months.  Hadn't even looked at me really - not even the usual insults he'd always had for me in public.  Margali sent me to...to fetch Jimaine for dinner...from the field past the edge of the camp.  I felt so...so brave that I actually walked past his trailer.  It was the first time since...since....  Ja, anyway.  I walked right past his door and I...I heard him...heard them...inside....

            "It was just a little noise.  No one else would have, would have noticed...they never had...before...anyway.  But I heard it...knew what it was."  He'd been dry-eyed up 'til now, no tears left to cry for the boy he'd been - he'd used them all long ago.  But he was rocking now, arms wrapped tightly across his chest and tears streaming down his face for the first time since he'd begun to speak.  His voice almost a keen of anguish as memory overwhelmed him.

            "How could I not have known?  She was so little Kaetzchen.  Nine, but tiny, like a doll.  Fragile and shy and frightened...frightened of everything.  She barely spoke enough German to understand his threats.  Her family - they were...were acrobats - had come from China just a...a few months before.

            "I don't remember breaking the door - I must have, because it was broken and I was inside, but....  I just remember her face - red with crying and so...so frightened.  Klaus angry and yelling and trying to get his pants up...trying to push her into me.  I don't remember after that, just the yelling and the blood."

            He trembled violently in reaction, fighting back the urge to vomit as nightmare images tried to swim before his still-wide eyes.  By the time his voice resumed it was steadier again, though still quiet and almost choked. 

            "Jimaine said...said my caterwauling brought the whole troupe running.  They had...had to pull me off of him - but that was just so her...her brother could have a go at him....  He took the blame for the...attack.  To keep me out of it.  Margali and Herr Braun were...worried that he would tell the police that it was really me, that they wouldn't be able to...hide me...anymore.  I couldn't tell them that he wouldn't take the chance that I might...might tell anyone.  That someone might find out he'd...he'd 'done' the animal.  Pedophilia was one thing you see, but to...to be known to engage in...in bestiality...that would be entirely...different...."

            Things he'd never said to anyone, nor ever intended to, were spilling out in a torrent he couldn't seem to stem.  He might actually have gone on, unloaded every sordid detail of his brief life, if she hadn't reached out to touch him for the first time since he'd begun, stopping his unconscious rocking with a firm but gentle grip on his trembling shoulder.

            "You're **not** an animal Kurt.  **He** was the animal.  Not you, Kurt..._never you."_

            Her voice was rough with tears, but strong and steady.  He froze, her voice and her hand rooting him to the spot.  He could hear her disgust, feel the quivering anger in her grip.  Maybe not an animal...maybe not...but weak, disgusting...soiled....  The world was spinning and there was no stable point of reference any more...nothing....

            "...disgusting...filthy..." his voice was barely audible as he gazed down to where his hands...his deformed hands...lay limply in his lap.

Cliffhanger!  Kind of anyway.  One more chapter to wrap this bit up and then we'll be moving on. 

Please review - I am officially a review junky.  They give me the big warm fuzzies.  Almost as much as elf torture.


	19. Out of the Woods

Here it is, the long awaited chapter nineteen.  Wherein our heroes work out their problems - or try to.    Many thanks to all of you who have reviewed - and **please continue to do so.  Reviews make my day!  To those of you who don't review - come on, give it a try.  It's totally painless, I promise.  Tell me what you like, tell me what you hate...whatever, I'm easy.**

Thanks again to my beta Sue Penkivech.  Believe me, you guys are **really** glad that she saw this before you did.

As always - I don't own them, I just have an active fantasy life.

Hopefully there won't be quite such a long wait on the next chapter - hopefully, real life does have a way of intervening.  Anyway, here it is - hope it doesn't disappoint.

CHAPTER 19 - OUT OF THE WOODS

            It was all Kitty could do to remain still and silent as the words were ripped from him - almost, it seemed, against his will.  She wanted to be able to close her eyes and ears, to block it out.  But it was like watching a train wreck - she couldn't tear her gaze away as he struggled to find the words to describe a nightmare made real.  Both his tears and his rage had disappeared long before his story even began, and she was left with the uncomfortable realization that they had been not for the pain of his past but for her, for forcing him to this.  Now all he seemed to have left was a thick, choking shame and the agony of remembered pain.  She could hear it in every word, and it tore at her heart like nothing else.  It would be better, somehow, if he'd cry.  She didn't know why, but she felt sure that it would be, somehow - for her if not for him.

            And so she sat, tears streaming down her cheeks, almost in compensation for the ones he wouldn't - or couldn't - shed, as her heart grew tighter with every word he spoke.  She was afraid that if she interrupted or distracted him he'd stop and, painful as it was to listen to, she was certain that he needed the release.  The way the words tumbled to escape him was proof enough of that.  

            She couldn't stifle a gasp when he spoke of his tail though.  It had been hard, so hard, to sit back and listen in silence, knowing that somehow she'd pushed him to this.  No matter how...cathartic...it might be in the end, **she** had brought out this pain, dragged it from wherever he'd had it tucked away and forced him to confront it...and relive it.  But now, knowing **exactly** what had caused it, what she'd triggered, her heart lurched and skipped a beat.  It was too much.  Worse still was the way he shrank away at the sound, barely moving yet somehow folding in on himself.  She wanted to reach out, comfort him, but she didn't know how.  

            Her resolve finally broke with the quiet anguish in his voice when he spoke of that animal's depravity as _bestiality_.  She couldn't let that pass, couldn't stay silent in the face of his quiet, pained acceptance of that term and the self-loathing it implied.  Impulsively, she reached out to still the steady rocking he'd begun as he spoke of that _animal's choice of a new victim.  It didn't escape her notice that he hadn't shed another tear until he spoke of the violation of another._

            "You're **not** an animal Kurt.  _He_ was the animal.  Not you, Kurt...**never you."  She couldn't even bring herself to validate that ugly word by repeating it.  This was the closest she could bring herself to what she wanted to say, what she _hoped he heard._**

            He didn't look up, didn't move, as her hand rested, quivering slightly, on his bare shoulder.  When he spoke again, she could barely make out the words - soft and obviously not intended for her ears - and they sent a chill down her spine.

            She let her hand drift up to stroke lightly at his cheek, her thumb brushing tentatively at the tear matted fur before seizing firmly on his chin and forcing his head up to meet her eyes.  

            "You are **not** soiled," she hissed fiercely at him, her voice still husky with tears.  "Don't you **dare say that."  She willed him to see the truth of what she said in her eyes.  _Oh please let him see.  _**

            Golden eyes glazed with pain, he stared blankly at her, not seeming to register her words.  He didn't resist her touch though, and continued to meet her gaze.  That was somewhere to start.  Lifting her hand she caressed his damp cheek and tried again.

            "You are **not** soiled Kurt.  What that **animal did to you was...disgusting."  She had to stop as her voice broke and it was a long moment before she could go on - a moment during which he merely stared at her, seemingly transfixed.  **

            "**He was...is...disgusting Kurt, ****not you and ****nothing he did...or said...can ever make you any...any less than you are.  My God, you were just...just a baby."  Her voice caught again, tears pricking at her eyes, as the image of Kurt as a frightened, confused little boy seared itself into her mind's eye.  How had he come out of that whole?  How had no one seen, protected him?  **

            She stifled a sob and instead trailed her hand softly along the velvet of his tense jaw as she continued, searching his eyes for any indication that what she said was getting through.  "You're better...and stronger than...than what he did to you...and more **human than that monster could ever dream of being."**

            Reaching out with her other hand she caught one of his where it still lay clenched on his knees.  "And you are beautiful."  Her voice was almost a whisper as she twined her fingers with his, fitting them together with none of the awkwardness the disparity of digits might have caused.  

            He shook his head slightly, but never dropped his gaze.  His eyes were glittering with a new mixture of emotions now.  The shame and fear hadn't faded completely, but mingled with them was a surprise that nearly broke her heart - surprise that she was still here, still speaking to him - and the first faint stirring of hope.  

            Kurt didn't resist as she tugged him gently towards her, as she pressed her lips to his in a soft, chaste kiss - at least that's what she'd intended.  Gentle reassurance that nothing he had said could drive her away or change her feelings for him.  But when she felt his lips, so warm and hesitant against her own, her previous intentions blew away like so many petals on the wind.  The hand that had rested on his cheek slipped around to settle on the back of his neck, holding him to her as she poured all the passion, love and need she felt for him into that one tenuous point of contact.  Hoping to show him with actions what she had no idea how to convey in words.

            She didn't know whether it was right or not.  She wasn't a psychologist or a telepath and for all she knew this was the worst possible response she could give.  But everything told her otherwise.  Whether it was perverse and twisted, or a healthy and life-affirming response she couldn't say.  She could only hope that he wanted, needed, the comfort of her body and her love as badly as she needed his right now.

            Seconds slipped away as her heart beat an erratic tattoo against her ribs and he neither pulled away nor responded - she wasn't even sure he was breathing.  She was beginning to have the horrifying feeling that she'd made a dreadful mistake.  

            _Oh God, he doesn't think that stuff turned me **on**?  No.  Oh God no!_

            She was about to pull back, ashamed of her body's response to him now, of all times.  How could she have thought this was the right thing to do?  How could...and then his lips moved against hers, gentle and hesitant in a way he'd never been before, but warm and accepting and oh so soft.  

            Without a thought she parted her lips and darted her tongue out to taste him - the bitter salt of tears mingling with the musky sweetness she'd come to think of as _him.  He moaned then and reached a hand up to rest tentatively on her hip as his tongue slipped out to meet hers, warm and sweet and gently seeking against her own._

            He couldn't believe it at first.  That she hadn't pulled away, hadn't run from him in horror and disgust.  And then he realized - pity, it must be pity that held her there.  Sickened but too kind to leave him alone with his demons in the encroaching dark.  Oh Gott, he didn't want her pity!  Anything but that.  

            Anger.  Disgust.  Hatred.  Fear.  These he could deal with, had dealt with all his life.  Perhaps not well, in retrospect, but they were the constants of his existence and he could deflect them well enough most days.  But pity....  Oh Gott, to see that in her eyes every time she looked at him.  He crushed an anguished sob before it could escape.  He would **not** give her any more fuel.  The show was over.  If he sat here long enough she would certainly leave him in peace.

            But no, that was asking too much apparently - that he be left with some last, feeble shred of dignity.  Her hand had moved from his shoulder, brushing oddly at his cheek before seizing his chin in a determined grip.  He didn't have the energy to resist as she forced his head up.  Let her get whatever she felt compelled to do over with.  The sooner she was done, the sooner she would let him be alone with his misery.

            He barely even registered her voice at first, letting her words wash over him as he stared at her blankly.  He tried to ignore the painful familiarity of her touch on his face.  It meant nothing - not now that he'd ruined everything.  

            He wanted to close his eyes.  To pretend for a moment that the caress was something he was certain it would never be again.  But her gaze held him transfixed with its intensity as her words washed over him and the stretching shadows mirrored the darkness of his mood.  It was, in the end, that very intensity that broke through the haze of self-loathing that enveloped him.  Her fierce blue eyes seemed to bore into his soul and, as they held him riveted, he finally began to realize that they held none of the revulsion he'd expected to face.  Concern was there as well as pain and...anger?  But none of the shrinking disgust or the obligation born of pity he had feared and anticipated.  He felt a spark of surprise and the first vague stirrings of hope as she clutched his hand in hers.

            _Beautiful?__  She thinks me...beautiful?  Nein, but...nein.  He shook his head in silent disbelief, his eyes never leaving hers._

            He couldn't seem to move, couldn't resist her in any way as she tugged him gently to her.  The touch of her lips on his, soft and warm and oh so sweet, was torture.  That was, after all, beyond hoping for.  It was the chaste kiss of a friend.  Reassurance, nothing more.  But still, so _much more than he had ever expected from her again.  His heart almost stopped with the shock of it when the cool, gentle brush of her lips became something entirely different, heated and demanding._

            Oh Gott, there was nothing chaste in how her lips were moving against his, in the warm press of her hand on his neck.  He couldn't move, couldn't even breathe.  Couldn't believe that this was really happening.  Or, more likely, afraid to believe it.  He wanted her so badly, wanted everything he'd never thought she'd offer him again.  His fogged brain struggled to process something so unexpected and for what felt like an eternity he remained frozen, expecting the delusion to end at any moment.  But it didn't end and her lips on his were warm, sweet and insistent.  Finally, hesitantly, he let himself respond.

            He couldn't suppress a strangled moan as her lips parted beneath his, her tongue caressing him in an invitation he couldn't resist.  And oh, the taste of her and then the feel of her beneath his hand as he reached to grasp her hip.  His hesitation dropped rapidly away as she responded to his touch, drawing closer and pressing eagerly into him.  He couldn't believe it.  She seemed to want, even need, him as much as he did her.  If this was a dream, then he didn't ever want to wake from it.

            Without any conscious intent he crushed her to him, his hands and mouth roving over her with almost desperate passion as he lowered her to lie on the soft loam beneath him.  He felt a vague tickle at the back of his mind as he knelt over her, gazing down at the bare flesh where her still open shirt fell away.  A tickle that was easily ignored and quickly forgotten in the eager fumbling of her hands at his pants as he struggled to divest her of her own.

            There was little of tenderness in what they did, but much of need.  Both too frantic for the reassurance of the other's body to care for anything beyond the need to touch, to **feel something, anything, other than pain.**

            Kurt groaned as he entered her, one swift thrust to sheath himself in her welcoming heat.  And then there was nothing in his world but the feel of her moving beneath and around him, the rhythm of his thrusts erratic and desperate as he whispered his love for her like a mantra.  A mantra that rapidly dissolved into incoherent gasps and moans as his world exploded and he slid over the edge into ecstasy.  For an endless moment everything - everything - was washed away in the white heat of his release.  And then, too soon, the world came rushing back.

            "Traurig, meine liebe," he groaned hoarsely into the sweat-damp flesh of her temple as he collapsed against her, trembling with reaction.  Gott, what he wouldn't give to have been able to bring her with him.  The thought that he'd failed her, disappointed her, ate at him already.  "Ich bin sehr traurig...."  His voice came out an agonized whisper, almost lost in the sounds of their labored breathing.

            "Ssshhh," she murmured, voice thick and breath warm against his throat.  She raised a hand gently to his lips.  

            "No apologies.  You gave me all I needed."  Her hands slipped up to trace along the muscular planes of his back and shoulders, touching, caressing...exploring as she spoke.  His eyes slipped shut as skin shuddered and muscles rippled at her touch.  

            "Besides," and he could hear the smile in her voice.  "You can make it up to me next time."

            His heart seemed to stop in his chest, then turn slowly over at her words.  At the simple, unquestionable love behind them.  He squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that suddenly stung at them.  Not tears of pain, but of gratitude for the gift of her love and friendship.  The sheer, unlooked for miracle of her understanding.  

            "Ach Gott, ich liebe dich Kaetzchen," he choked out around a sudden obstruction in his throat.  

            "I know Fuzzy.  I love you too."

            It was one of the first truly warm evenings of spring and they lay in each other's arms as the shadows lengthened into darkness, taking what comfort they could find after the emotional roller-coaster of the afternoon.  She protested his terminology, but not his intent when he insisted on making it up to her for his earlier 'failing' and by the time darkness fell in earnest they were both exhausted, their passion at least temporarily spent.

            After, she'd lain with her head pillowed on his shoulder, watching through the sparse canopy of leaves above as the first stars appeared in the darkening sky.  They'd spoken of inconsequential things, both too wary of disturbing the fragile peace they'd muddled their way to by touching on anything significant.  Mostly, though, they had lain, naked and content in each others arms, as the world spun away around them.  It was enough just to _be_. 

            It had been some time since she'd heard any sound besides the hushed sighing of the wind through the trees and the muted rumble of his contented purr.  She jumped slightly when his voice broke through the silence, gentle and regretful.

            "We should be getting back Kaetzchen, before they decide to come looking for us, ja?"  His arm tightened around her shoulders and she snuggled further into the velvet warmth of his embrace.  

            "Don't want to," she murmured, trying, without notable success, to keep the petulance from her voice.  A warm chuckle as he tightened his grip on her shoulders was his only reply.

            "I know, I know I'm being childish.  I just wish we didn't have to.  But you're right, I suppose."  And he was.  They'd missed dinner long before, and their continued absence had, doubtless, been duly noted.  There'd be questions to answer when they Got back.

            _Aw shit, life goes on._

            "Ja liebe.  After all, I don't know about you, but having Scott walk in on us en flagrante delicto once was really one more time than I ever needed **that** to happen.  I'd rather not have to face down a search party in my current state of undress."  She could _hear_ his grin as he spoke and she loved the gentle humor in his voice.

            "Fine then," and she rose reluctantly to her feet, surreptitiously admiring the easy, fluid grace of his movements as he did likewise.  He caught her sidelong glance and raised one slender blue-black eyebrow at her.

            "Was there something Liebechen?  You know you _are allowed to look - it comes with the being allowed to touch bit," he assured her, smirking just a little and eyes twinkling with obvious amusement that he'd 'caught' her looking._

            "Not really Fuzzy," she responded, a slow blush creeping up her cheeks.  "Just thinking how there's really _nothing dignified about a naked guy," and she grinned impishly at him.  _This is ridiculous, I've slept with him...how many times?  Faced down Dr. McCoy over birth-control and Scott over having sex, but it embarrasses me to see him naked?  Okay, at least to be **caught** looking anyway.  Jeez, grow up already Pryde_!_

            "Ach, you wound me Liebe!  Not dignified?"  She couldn't help but laugh as he looked down at himself quizzically, tail lashing in agitation.  

            "Oh, now you _laugh_ at me?  Hasn't anyone ever told you not to laugh at a naked man?  Our poor, fragile egos cannot take the battering," and he looked mournfully up at her, chrome yellow eyes glittering incongruously with mischief beneath the sweep of impossibly long, dark lashes.

            She tried, and failed, to look contrite and he managed the mournful look for all of ten seconds or so before his warm, rumbling laugh joined hers in the still night air.  "Not _dignified Liebe?  And did you really think __you are?" he managed to snort between waves of laughter as he stepped gracefully into his boxers, his tail slipping nimbly through the hole in the back._

            She stopped short, halfway through the process of pulling on her jeans, and gave him a withering look before answering.  "I am **so** not going to take that bait Fuzzy," she finally said, winking at him as she finished with her pants and reached for her bra. 

            "Bait?"  He grinned at her, the quick flash of gleaming fangs in his shadowed face the only way she could really tell.  "What bait?"

            "Yeah, right, Fuzzy!"  She shook her shirt vigorously, trying to get all the bits of dirt and leaves out, before shrugging into it and starting on the buttons.  By this time he was standing, as fully dressed as he could get, considering what she'd done to his shirts earlier, and waiting patiently for her to finish, her socks and shoes dangling from his hand.  He stood in a patch of moonlight just bright enough to highlight the lean lines of his chest and shoulders, the gentle swell and velvet-shadowed dip of his abs....  She swallowed hard and forced her eyes back to his face and paused at the odd, slightly strained expression he wore.

            "What is it?"  She tried not to let concern creep into her tone.  After this afternoon she wondered how long would it be before she stopped reading potential catastrophe into every slightly awkward moment and struggled to ignore the irrational clenching in her gut as she waited for his answer.

            "Was?  Oh, nothing Schatz."  Kitty relaxed in relief as his mouth tipped easily into a warm smile.  "Nothing, just," he paused and she had to stifle a laugh as he canted his head at an angle, for all the world like an inquisitive puppy, before reaching to brush a warm, thick finger lightly along the line of her jaw.  His touch sent a shiver down her spine and she felt lost in the molten gold of his eyes.  It was his voice, warm and slightly halting, his accent thick with emotion, that brought her back to reality.  

            "Just thinking how...amazing...it is to be here, with you.  It is strange, really.  I never saw this coming, but already I cannot imagine anything else."  He ducked his head briefly and she could imagine a blush she'd never see suffusing his dark cheeks before he looked back up and caught her gaze, golden eyes uncharacteristically somber.  "And I really do not want to."

            She had to pause a moment, blinking back tears as she tried to find her voice.  "Me either, Kurt," she finally answered.  "Me either."

            Not eloquent or romantic maybe, but all she could get out past the lump in her throat.  From the vantage point of where she stood now she had absolutely no idea how she hadn't seen this coming, wasn't even sure when it had actually started.  She knew, now, that what she felt had been there long before that day at the lake.  Something there had brought it out, but not created it.  She supposed she'd just needed a little push to help her mind realize what her heart must have known already.            

            He gave himself a slight shake and the somber look melted from his face, replaced by an impish grin.  "You know," he told her, eyes again sparkling with mischief.  "I really _should_ make you go stumbling about in the dark until you find my shirts and phase them out of that tree, Liebe.  It's going to be...interesting...to say the least, explaining exactly why I'm coming back half dressed."

            "Can't you just 'port back to your room?"  She hadn't been thinking this far ahead when she'd been so proud of her little trick earlier.

            "Nein Kaetzchen.  I'm _much too...drained...for that."  Waggling his eyebrows suggestively, he gave her a sidelong glance that was equal parts sheepish and wicked.  _

            "God, you're incorrigible!  What am I going to do with you?"  She tried to look disapproving but God...that _look_.

            "Anything you want Liebe," he purred back and she was torn between laughing her ass off and melting into a puddle at his feet.

            "I'll have to give that one some thought Fuzzy," she managed, before laughter won out and she burst into a fit of giggles.  She let him pull her to his side, leaning into him and feeling the rumble of his own laughter a second before it spilled over into a low, warm chuckle.  

            This, she realized, this was what she loved about him most.  After everything that had happened in the last two weeks, this afternoon - hell, everything that had happened in his whole fucked up life - he could stand here, holding her in his arms...and laugh.

            Logan stalked silently past the rec room door, his nerves jangling irritably at the sound of raucous laughter intermingled with adolescent bickering that flooded from the room.  The Porcupine's voice rose briefly above the rest before he was shouted down by Sparky and the Icecube.  

            _Typical.__  But not my problem tonight.  'Ro can keep 'em from trashing the place or each other this time._

            He resisted the urge to grind his teeth at the noise, if only because of the adverse effect that would have on the cigar clenched between them, and continued on, making a bee-line past the library.  The noise diminished with distance but was still obnoxiously loud to his sensitive ears.  As he turned into the conservatory the sound dropped off sharply, muffled both by the closing door and the massed greenery filling the room - plant-life already spilling from the raised beds along the walls and the single large, oval bed in the center of the room.

            _'Ro sure didn't waste any time in here, he thought with appreciation as he paused briefly to take in the myriad shades of green illuminated by the moonlight spilling through floor to ceiling windows.  Between that and the rich, fecund smell of growing things it was almost as good as being outside._

            Almost, but not quite.  Speeding his steps he pushed open the elegant glass door and stepped out into the welcome warmth of a perfect spring night.

            "Good evening, Logan."  The voice was quiet, somewhat strained, but not surprised.  Not that he'd expect it to be.

            "Evenin'," he grunted around his unlit stogie, not bothering to turn to the shadows at the edge of the shallow porch.  Instead he looked out across the shadowed expanse of the still-unfinished gardens, his eyes skipping over the empty basketball court before lingering on the long, moon-silvered sweep of lawn running to the dark edge of the orchard and the woods beyond.  

            It wasn't exactly a comfortable silence, but Logan felt no real inclination to break it.  Not yet anyway.  Reaching into his jeans pocket he fished out an ancient, battered, zippo and flipped it open with a practiced flick of his wrist.  A small tongue of flame sprang to life and he drew deeply on his cigar as it kindled, a muted orange-gold ember in the darkness as he stepped away from the lamp light pooling at the windows behind him.

            He let the silence stretch as he puffed on his cigar, the acrid smoke filling his lungs and billowing in the air around him.  It dulled his senses, making it easier to focus by overwhelming the distraction of a thousand random scents vying for his attention.  Nothing now but the soothing burn of the smoke and the bitter scent of irritation and disappointment rolling in waves from the shadows to his right.

            Logan took another deep drag then, flicking the grey cylinder of ash over the porch rail, he turned to face the figure seated in the shadows behind him

            "Any particular reason you're sittin' out here fuming in the dark Chuck?" he finally asked, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer.

            "I am not...fuming...Logan," the other man replied, his cultured voice still tight.  "I am simply awaiting the return of Kurt and Kitty.  I find that I need to have a talk with the two of them regarding...responsibility."

            _Ah shit!  He suppressed the urge to snarl as he leaned back against the stone railing behind him, propping one foot comfortably against a fluted column.  Deep breath in.  Out.  Okay, _now_ talk._

            "Leave 'em be Chuck."  Even through the cigar smoke he could smell the sharp spike of surprise.  The only sign of it on his old friend's face, though, was one steeply arched eye-brow.  Cool.  Controlled.  Always.

_            Sucks ta be him._

            "Logan, I know they are two of your...favorites...but that is hardly a valid viewpoint when you are not even aware of the circum-"

            "So they're screwin' each other," he interrupted.  "Big deal.  They're bein' responsible.  Leave 'em alone.  They don't need any more shit to deal with than they've got already."

            He watched Charles Xavier's normally impassive features flash through surprise, concern and disappointment before settling back into their customary neutrality.  Any other time he might have found the sight amusing.  Not tonight though.  Like it or not, the disappointment struck a chord.

_            Shit, one of these fuckin' days I'm gonna learn to think first and open my mouth later._

            They watched each other in silence for a long moment, Logan's outburst hanging awkwardly between them.

            "That is precisely the problem Logan.  They have **more than enough to deal with without adding in a sexual relationship which neither of them is mature enough to handle."  He closed his eyes briefly, rubbing at the bridge of his nose wearily before continuing.  "Would you care to tell me, Logan, just how long you have been aware of this...situation...and exactly when you were planning on sharing the information with me?"  His voice was, as always, cultured, modulated, reasonable - and, at the moment, sharp enough to cut glass.**

            "It's only been goin' on a week," he growled back, not bothering to hide his mounting irritation.  

_            Why the fuck do some people need to make things so damn complicated?_

            "And I wasn't _planning_ on telling you anything at all.  I _told you, they're bein' responsible and I don't see where it's anyone's business but theirs."_

            "They are **children** Logan," Xavier almost barked, his composure cracking somewhat as he leaned forward in his chair, his hands clenching on his knees. "The two of them engaging in a sexual relationship is _definitionally irresponsible. And whether or not you think it's anyone else's business is irrelevant. They are _both_ under age and I am responsible for their well-being. I don't even want to _think_ about explaining this to their parents...." He dropped his head briefly into his hands and when he looked up his cheeks were flushed and he sounded angry for the first time. "And you, Logan! You're one of their __teachers. How could you __possibly condone this?"_

            "Ain't a matter of me or you or anyone else _condonin__' anything," he snarled, somewhat on the defensive.  He didn't like the feeling that **he** had disappointed the man who was both his mentor and his oldest friend.  "Can't see as there's much chance of stopping it anyway, and I really don't see the point in trying."_

It was Logan's turn now to be impassive.  He raised one bushy eyebrow, mirroring Xavier's earlier expression.  "Besides, they may be under age Chuck, but they sure as hell aren't children.  Hell, I'm not sure even Jamie's much of a kid anymore," he growled.  "Ya ask 'em to deal with shit no kid should even have to _think_ about, let alone face.  Most adults'd piss their pants at the stuff these _kids_ have been through in the last few months.  But when they're not out making the world safe fer mutants, or mutants safe for the world - or just plain trying to keep their asses in one piece between breakfast and dinner - you expect 'em to come home, play nice and be good little kids for ya.  It doesn't work that way Chuck.  It just doesn't fuckin' work that way."

            Logan paused, running blunt fingers through his unruly hair in frustration, struggling to find the words he needed.

_            Shit!  I don't **do** talking.  I do ass-whipping._

            "Logan," Chuck's calm voice broke into his thoughts before he'd had time to gather them.  "I do understand what you're saying.  The life they lead here of necessity places burdens and expectations on them that they should **not have to face at their age.  But that is all the ****more reason that they should not be burdened with any further responsibilities - and a sexual relationship is, first and foremost, a _responsibility, my friend.  It can be a great comfort and solace, but it can also be a tremendous emotional and psychological burden.  I am...concerned...that they are not ready for that kind of burden, Logan._**

            "And what of the rest of the children?  Kurt is one of our oldest students, he and Kitty are, or should be, role models to the younger children.  When word of their...relationship...gets out - and rest assured that it will - how will that affect the others?

            "Quite aside from any considerations of safe sex - which they do not appear to be practicing...."  The other man's face flushed and Logan caught a distinct impression of _embarrassment_ before he cleared his throat and continued.  "Quite aside from that, there are so many other issues to consider Logan.  So you see, I simply can not 'leave them alone' as you insist, my friend.  It is not an option."

            There were **so many issues he could jump on in that little speech, but one stood out to him above the others.  One eyebrow creeping almost up to his hairline, he asked cautiously, "Uh, Chuck, just how _did you find out about the kids and why, exactly, is it that you think they ain't bein'...safe?"_**

            The tell-tale flush crept up Xavier's cheeks and all the way across his bald pate as he looked uncomfortably down at his hands, where they rested in his lap.

            "Well, to be honest," his voice was uncharacteristically hestitant.  "I wondered why they were missing dinner so I...'looked'...for them on the grounds."  He paused, clearing his throat roughly before continuing.  "Let's just say that I 'found' them at a rather inopportune time - and there was certainly no...protection...involved."

            Logan couldn't suppress a rather wicked chuckle at his friend's obvious discomfiture.  The image was just too damn funny - Charles Xavier hip deep in hot, sweaty, teenage sex.

            "No wonder ya nearly choked at dinner.  And here I thought it was because ya hadn't cut yer meat up small enough."  He snickered again at Charles' half-hearted glare.  "Anyway Chuck - take a load off about the safe-sex bit at least.  Half-Pint brow beat Hank into giving her some kinda shot yesterday.  That'd be why they weren't, uh...using...anything."

            "Do you mean that Henry is aware of this situation as well?  And you two have been _discussing it?"  His voice was incredulous.  "Am I the only person in this house who _doesn't_ know?"_

            "Eh, don't get yer knickers in a twist Charles.  Far as I know, 'Ro and the rest of the kids're still in the dark - and I've done my damnedest to keep it that way.  As fer me an' Poindexter, we ain't been discussin' it per se - I just noticed that Kitty smelled...different...last night and Hank seemed awful antsy....  Put two and two together and pigeon-holed him.  Was like pullin' teeth gettin' anything outa him though - Doctor/patient privilege bullshit!"  He tipped his head back to gaze at the stars above the mansions jagged roof-line, scrubbing at his face with one rough hand as he did so.  "Anyway, like I said, they're bein' responsible."

            He looked back down at the other man, who was staring off into the darkness at the edge of the woods as he spoke.  "Relieved as I am to hear that Logan, I must reiterate that safe sex is really among the least of my concerns.  I cannot pretend that I am not disappointed in their choice, Logan, and I must say that I seriously question whether or not either of them truly understands or is ready for the emotional ramifications of their decision.  They are both so young..." his voice trailed off into a sigh as he raised a hand to scrub wearily at his face.

_            Damn, he looks tired.  He's been bustin' his balls to get a proper roof over these kids' heads for months.  Shit, we could all use a vacation 'bout now._

            He took one last drag on the stub of his cigarette before dropping it to grind it under his booted heel.  "Look," he finally began, "I guess I can understand yer concern Chuck, but I really think you need to let this slide - at least for now."

            Shit, there went that damn eyebrow again....      

            "You're worried about them bein' emotionally able to deal with this and well, I gotta tell you that, right now, I'm not sure the elf's emotionally able to cope without it."

            That damn eyebrow just crept higher, impossible as that seemed.  "What is that supposed to mean Logan?"

            "Remember when we first brought him in?"

            Comprehension flashed in Xavier's eyes, followed rapidly by concern and he inclined his head slightly for Logan to continue.

            "Yeah, well...he hasn't gotten **quite** that bad, but it's been damn close."  He looked awkwardly down at his boots, searching for the words to get his point across.  He didn't like talking about this, even to Charles.  Felt like he was ratting the kid out behind his back but, well, it felt necessary.  "He's been runnin' on the thin edge of a breakdown for a couple weeks now - and before you ask," he looked up, "I don't have a clue what started it.  He ain't been talkin' and I ain't been pryin'.  Anyway, started a couple weeks ago.  He wrecked himself pretty good in the woods - in the middle of the night.  I patched 'im up and set up some programs for him.  He started hittin' the DR every night before bed, but I'd lay money that he still wasn't sleepin' and he was bleedin' at the ears and nose pretty regular.  He tried to hide it but…."  

            He let his voice trail off with a shrug.  Charles understood the pointlessness of trying to hide anything from him if he was looking for it.  He saw the grim look on the other man's face as he glanced up, a look he was sure was a fair reflection of his own expression.  Chuck obviously remembered those days - and nights - as well as he did.

            His voice, when he spoke, was soft and almost bitter.  "How did I miss this, Logan?  How could I possibly have missed all this?"

            "Shit, Chuck!" Logan barked.  "I didn't tell ya so you could beat yerself up over it, dammit!  You've been bustin' yer ass to get this place," he jerked his head at the mansion, "fit to live in.  Besides, with this many teenagers runnin' around, when the hell were ya supposed to have a chance to notice?"

            "I should have -"

            "Should've what?" he interrupted with a snort.  "Gone around invadin' their mental privacy so you could keep tabs on 'em?"

            "You should have told me Logan."  He sounded tired, and there was no real accusation in his voice.

            "Why?  S'not like the kid'd talk to you or let you into his head.  What the fuck could you have done?  Other that worry about one more thing you couldn't fix, anyway?  I was keepin' an eye on him - so was Scooter for that matter.  Kid's not quite as dense at he looks sometimes. 

            "Anyway, the whole point of this little heart to heart is the fact that he's been gettin' better steady-like ever since he and Half-Pint started, uh, gettin' it on.  Not sure as something between 'em didn't start it in the first place, but whatever it was, it's on the mend now.  Don't really think we should fuck with success is all."  He paused, meeting his friend's gaze in silence for a moment.  "I'm not sayin' you should ignore it forever Chuck.  Hell, maybe you should have your little 'talk' with them - just...not now.  Give 'em a bit first.  Give th'Elf a chance to settle down a bit more."  He snorted in frustration, drawing a hand through his hair irritably.  "Hell, I guess I don't know shit about it really.  I'm not up on psychobabble or that crap, I'm sure as hell not a 'people person'...but.  Just go easy on 'em, will you?"

            "You know, old friend, you never have given yourself enough credit."  Logan looked up in surprise at Charles' tone and caught him looking at him...oddly, his expression inscrutable, before he sighed and continued in a more normal tone.  "I had planned on grounding them from tomorrow's trip and...firmly suggesting...that they bring the _physical_ aspect of their relationship to a halt - for the time being at least.  However, under the circumstances, perhaps your...suggestion...is the best course of action.  For now anyway."

            He rolled his chair slightly out of the shadows and looked sharply across the lawn to the orchards.  Following his gaze, Logan saw two shadows detaching themselves from the trees and starting toward the mansion.  He turned back as Charles spoke again.

            "I want you to understand Logan, that it was never my intent to...punish them.  I was, contrary to popular belief, young once and I do recall what it's like.  I am not angry at them, just...concerned."  He looked back up at Logan and smiled slightly.  "I am glad to hear that they have been careful - I will not say responsible, you understand.  But I believe I do need to have a conversation of some sort with them soon, if only to ascertain whether they truly understand what they have begun.  But," and he turned his chair toward the door, its motor humming quietly in the still night air, "I believe that it can wait until Sunday."

            The door swung silently open at a command from his chair's console and he disappeared into the green-tinged light of the conservatory.  "Good evening my friend," he called back over his shoulder as the door closed, his voice not lighter so much as...less strained than it had been.  Logan grunted inarticulately in response then turned himself and, vaulting over the low porch rail, headed for the woods.  Quite definitely **away** from where two figures made their way slowly across the grass, so close that they almost appeared as one, the faint sounds of soft voices and quiet laughter making their way to his sensitive ears as he disappeared beneath the shadows of the trees.  It was a fine night to hunt.


	20. A Secret Revealed

Yes, the mind boggles, there has been less than a month between chapters.  Armageddon must be upon us.  Anyway, don't get your hopes up for the future, I'm still glacially slow, this is just a really short chapter - for me anyway.  Although I do have the next one about 70% done, so who knows?  

Again, thanks to my beta - Sue Penkivech.  She makes this much more readable I assure you.  

HUGE thanks also to all the wonderful people who review.  I REALLY appreciate the time you take to give me feedback and it's wonderful to know people are enjoying this and that it's not just mental masturbation (pardon my French). 

I hope no one's too disappointed that I don't acknowledge reviewers individually here.  I'm just not that organized.  If you leave me an e-mail with your review I am more than happy to respond to you that way if you'd like.  It's much easier for me to deal with reviews as they come in that way.  Anyway, hope you enjoy - things are starting to heat up, in soooo many ways.  

A SECRET REVEALED

            Jason Newcombe was bored.  Very, very bored.  He shifted irritably, rearranging his air rifle between his knees before checking his watch - 5:45.  At least his relief should be here any minute for the six o'clock shift change.  With a sigh he went back to scanning his assigned section of woodland.  As he'd done six out of seven days or nights for almost three months now and shit he was sick of it.

            All because of that fucking blue freak of nature.  And in all that time he'd only laid eyes on it once - at a distance.  Two weeks ago it had come pelting through the woods in the middle of the night like some hellish cross between a cat and a monkey.  Back-up had been called in all along the perimeter that night and he'd been dragged out of his bed in the middle of the night.  All for nothing though - like usual.  In the end it had simply disappeared back into the woods too far from the perimeter to be monitored.  On the way back to the apartment complex that served as his 'barracks' he'd been irrationally glad that they'd never gotten a shot at the thing.  After watching the creature move, the only thing he'd been really sure of was that he **never** wanted to come within touching distance of it under any circumstances.

            The faint sound of footsteps in the woods behind him told Newcombe that he was almost off the hook for one more day.  Williams could park his ass and spend a cold, fruitless night watching for any sign of the beast - _he was going to make his report and then have a long, hot shower before bed._

            As he started packing up his equipment he wondered, not for the first time, just how Mrs. Newcombe's little boy had ended up in this line of work.  The pay was decent, but the hours and working conditions sucked ass.  It had seemed like such a good and noble idea when he'd been given the 'opportunity' to join the Organization after boot camp.  Keep the world safe from those filthy freaks of nature and help America stay strong and powerful.  Help his country assume its **rightful** place in the world.  Sounded real pretty on paper.  Now?  Now it was long hours of boredom punctuated by brief periods of stark terror.  He shuddered as the memory rose, unbidden, of staring into the Wolverine's cold eyes in the forest outside of that pissant German town - Winzeldorf.  Didn't matter what he thought at this point anyway.  This job was for life, just like its predecessor Weapon X before it had been disbanded and forced underground.  The only way out of this outfit was in a box.

            "Hey Jason."  Williams' quiet hail jolted him out of his thoughts and he rose stiffly to his feet.

            "Robbie," he grunted in response before noticing the odd, eager look on the boy's face.

            "Don't bother packin' up," he was told in an excited whisper.  "Sergeant Masters saw the freak heading into the woods this afternoon and it hasn't come out yet.  We might get a shot at it!"

            From the jaded vantage point of his 23 years, Jason Newcombe repressed a grimace of disgust at the misplaced enthusiasm of youth.  Damn nineteen year old.  Fresh out of Basic and new to the Organization.  Hadn't even seen a mutie close up in the wild before.  Just video footage and the collared, broken ones that were used for training.  Robbie Williams had sure as hell never looked the Wolverine in the eye!  As this ran through his head, Newcombe conveniently glossed over the memory of promptly pissing his pants and dropping in a dead faint the second after he met the crazed killer's murderous glare - hard as it was to forget since that little 'failing' was the primary reason he'd been stuck here, in one of the most godforsaken posts on the perimeter, for the past three months.

            "And we might not," he finally grunted indifferently.  _Least, I sure as hell hope not_.  "Why'n hell wasn't I notified earlier if it's out there?"

            "Sarge said Lieutenant Myers didn't want all the sentries gettin' all keyed up if it might never actually show.  Only notified post eighteen 'cause that's the direction it was heading and then waited to see if it actually showed up.  Just as relief was gettin' sent out, Eighteen reported sighting it heading this way within ten meters of the perimeter.  All relief in Eighteen through Twenty-two was ordered to establish a double watch until further notice."

            Newcombe resisted the urge to curse.  Lack of enthusiasm for one's work could be considered a...disciplinary...issue, and Williams was just the sort of over-eager newbie who'd mention something like that.  He'd had a taste of _discipline, thanks, and he didn't feel any particular need to revisit the experience._

            Instead, he sat back down and then shifted over, making room for the kid on the log next to him before turning his attention back to the woods beyond the chain link fence.

            _Bit diff'rent from that great big wall and the fancy wrought-iron gate they've got for display out front._

            "Best pay attention then," he finally muttered.  "Wouldn't want to miss the freak if it comes by."  

            There were a few awkward moments of jockeying for position as Williams settled in and arranged his equipment.  Then they both began to scan the empty woods, searching for any sign of life or movement that wasn't a squirrel or a bird.  It hadn't been more than five minutes when Newcombe heard the faint crackle that told him a message was coming in.  He pressed a hand to the tiny comm unit in his ear, noticing Williams mirroring his movement as he did so, and concentrated on splitting his attention between the incoming message and his continued surveillance of the surrounding woods.

            "...target sighting confirmed 17:58 hours by Post Nineteen.  Heading south within ten meters of perimeter in company of Specimen Four.  Posts Nineteen through Twenty-two high alert..."

            As the transmission ended he glanced over and briefly met Williams' excited gaze.  

            "Well shit," the boy mumbled, blue eyes wide and one hand running nervously across the blond stubble on his scalp.  "Looks like we're next."  The kid's grin was more than a little wild as he hit the confirm button on his comm link before adjusting his rifle and raising his binoculars to peer eagerly out into the woods again.

            Jason Newcombe settled for a non-committal grunt in response as he too resumed his examination of their assigned sector - all the while fervently hoping that if the thing showed up it would bloody well keep moving.

            Two minutes later he froze, watching in horror as a teenage girl appeared, running full-tilt _through_ the trunk of a slender birch.  He immediately recognized Specimen Four both by her physical appearance and her powers and shuddered.  That was so fucking _wrong.  Not as bad as the blue freak they were after, but still __so wrong.  He understood they could be useful to the Organization and the Cause, but it still made his skin crawl to think of people - real human beings - actually interacting with the things._

            He nudged Williams gently and jerked his head in the...girl's...direction.  He never took his eyes off her as she trotted through the trees - sometimes literally - casting frequent glances over her shoulder as she went.  He heard Williams fumbling with his comm unit and then the soft sound of his voice as he sent the message confirming visual contact with the Specimen, but he never shifted his gaze from alternately tracking the mutie and checking her back-trail for signs of the freak.

            She came to an abrupt halt about three meters from the perimeter and leaned against a tree, panting for breath.  Since she showed no sign of moving any time soon Newcombe focused most of his attention on her back-trail, almost missing it when the freak dropped right out of the tree above her.

            "Shit!  Didn't even know it was fuckin' there," Williams breathed in awe.  The kid immediately began fumbling with his comm, obviously not wanting to waste any time claiming the honor of spotting their target but consequently missing the thing's next move.  Newcombe had to stifle the urge to gag as it grabbed the mutie girl and started...making out with her.  Worse yet, she seemed to be _enjoying_ it.  Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker![1]  She might be a mutie, but she at least _looked_ human.  How in hell could she let that...thing...touch her?

            He could tell from the startled gasp that Williams had finished his report and turned his attention back to the pair.  He grimaced in disgust that the kid was seeing something this - sick - and it only got worse from there.  It didn't take long to figure out that the freaks had every intention of fucking right there in the open and his cheeks flushed with the realization that they might as well have a front row seat for the action.  The woods weren't particularly thick here and they had the best surveillance equipment money could buy.  Shit!

            He tried to ignore the inarticulate groan from Williams as the mutie whore unbuttoned her shirt for the freak and he - it - slid it and her bra quickly off.  The kid had probably never seen tits outside a dirty magazine or a porn movie, but still....  He couldn't believe this.  Stuck in the middle of nowhere with a professional obligation to watch two mutie freaks going at it like cats in season.  They didn't fucking pay him enough for this.

            He carefully estimated their distance from key landmarks again, his brain going on autopilot as he tried to ignore what was actually going on in front of them.  Wishing that Williams were trying to ignore it as well.  They were still at least five to six meters beyond the safe pick up range at his estimate - not close enough to bother with the precision of the laser range finder.  The second they got within two meters though, he'd have back-up heading in.  They'd be ready to nail the freaks the second they crossed the perimeter into the safe range.

            "Shit," he mumbled, feeling Williams jump at the sound.  He quickly relayed an update to HQ, informing them of the target's position and current...activity...before forcing his eyes back to the pair.  Just in time to be disgusted by what she was doing with the thing's tail.  He glanced away, thoroughly repulsed.  

            _God!  How can she even **touch** that, let alone...?  Ugh!_

            He glanced at his partner, taking quick note of the glazed look in the boy's eyes.  His slack-jawed stare combined with his short, shallow breaths left Newcombe even further repulsed.  The kid was actually getting off on this.

            _If he touches himself I am so going to kick his ass.  God, I wonder if he's the type of sicko who gets off on watching dogs and horses too?  He shuddered at the thought and looked back to the pair of freaks.  God, he was never going to live this down - stuck out here watching a pair of muties rut._

            Then again, maybe not - the blue-furred freak had actually pushed itself away.  Now _that_ was a shock - to Williams too from the sounds of it.  Newcombe sneered at the inarticulate sound of disappointment from the boy.  Hard to believe the thing had the self-control to turn down sex, really.  

            As he watched the silent tableau before him, Newcombe almost found himself wishing he could hear them speak.  Hard as it was to believe the thing could actually talk, it did appear to be a two-way conversation - and a pretty acrimonious one at that.  Damn!  Was it actually going to attack her?  A mutie fight was a definite improvement over mutie sex, though he still fervently wished they'd chosen some other spot on the perimeter for their rendezvous.

            They'd shifted a bit and Newcombe automatically estimated their current distance from the perimeter again - still a good four to five meters at least.  He relayed an update to HQ and requested back-up be put on immediate stand-by.  The way this was heating up there was a definite chance they'd break the perimeter.  A moment later he received confirmation and went back to observing, just in time to get the shock of his life.

            "Holy fucking shit!"  Only long weeks of conditioning kept his voice just above a whisper - significantly quieter than the strangled noise coming from Williams.

            Where seconds before had stood a fuzzy blue demon, tail lashing and eyes burning eerily, now there was a thoroughly unremarkable, non-descript teenager.  Pale, lanky, shoulder length black hair.

            "The brass are gonna fuckin' shit bricks," he breathed incredulously.  

            He'd seen that kid before.  They all had.  He went out the gate almost every damn day with total impunity.  He hadn't shown up on TV.  Had not, to their knowledge, ever done anything the least bit unusual.  No hint of what, if any, powers he might have.  Consequently, no one had paid him any mind at all.  Not even enough to bother putting a name to the face.  Apparently the consensus had been that he couldn't have any powers worth paying attention to if he wasn't even any use to the muties.

            He fumbled frantically for the control of the small, helmet mounted video camera they all carried and hit "record" a fraction of a second too late.

            "Oh shit," he muttered again, with significantly more feeling this time, as the 'normal' boy disappeared as quickly as he'd appeared and the demon again stood in his place.  Williams was still making odd, strangled noises - doubtless the unfortunate by-product of trying to think his way through the situation.  They were both _so_ dead.  They should have started recording the second the thing came within range.  The detail wasn't too good at this distance, but it was good enough to pick up _that little trick._

            He fumbled blindly for his comm and then paused, turning to look at the boy beside him.  "You _did see that, right?"_

            No _way was he going to send __that message unless he was 100% sure the kid wouldn't shoot him down._

            "Oh hell yes," Williams breathed with fervor.  "I sure as shit did."

            Newcombe grunted in response as he pressed his microphone in place against his throat and hit transmit, frantically composing his message as he went, hoping he was going to be believed and not written off as a nutcase or disciplined as an incompetent.

            He waited an anxious moment as his communication was relayed to command, nearly jumping when his earphone crackled back to life.

            "...Stand by for immediate reinforcements and relief.  Please confirm...."

            He did so promptly, letting his attention wander for a moment as he thought about what he'd just seen.  If that kid was a fucking shape-shifter, on top of being a teleporter, then the game had just gotten _way_ more complicated.

            "Well hell!"  He looked up again in curiosity, wondering what had prompted the exclamation from Williams.  Seeing nothing to justify the oath, he nudged the boy with a questioning grunt.

            "Oh, she just hauled off and slapped the shit out of it," he explained with a grin.

            He grunted again and went back to his surveillance.  At least he wouldn't have to be at it much longer, and it was nice to know that even if the thing broke the perimeter tonight _he wasn't likely to be involved.  _

            On the down side, he was probably about to face one of two almost equally unattractive activities: a long debriefing spent trying to convince the brass that he and Williams _hadn't been hallucinating as well as trying to cover their butts for not recording the whole exchange, or a short debriefing wherein one of the Organization's two tame telepaths confirmed that he hadn't been hallucinating.  While he was repulsed by the prospect of coming into close physical contact with a mutie, the possibility of one actually _using_ its power on him was even worse...._

            It hadn't been more than two minutes since his transmission before the sound of footsteps alerted them to the arrival of their relief.  He snapped to brisk attention when he saw just who it was.  The brass weren't taking any chances at this point, it appeared.  It was only a moment's work to deliver a brief update and gather their equipment, then he and Williams were on their way back towards HQ and what would probably be a _very long, __very unpleasant night._

[1]  My dad actually used this particular curse.  Not often, I'll admit, but he did.  Apparently picked it up in the Canadian Navy in WWII.


	21. A Wild Ride

Well, here's chapter 21 - and in record time for me too.  Want to thank my beta, Sue Penkivech, yet again - for saving you guys from all sorts of odd little discrepancies and what-not that she found for me.  Also want to thank all the wonderful people who have been reviewing this.  You guys are the best.  Thanks so much for all your support and encouragement.  It means everything - feedback, I've discovered, is amazingly addictive.  So please, once you're done, leave me a REVIEW - love it, hate it, think it could be improved.  Specifics are ALWAYS appreciated.  Constructive criticism is worth its weight in gold - well, okay, it doesn't really *weigh* anything, but you get the idea.

Anyway, hope you enjoy.

A WILD RIDE

            Kurt almost sprang out of bed.  Stretching like an overgrown cat and listening to the satisfying pop of vertebrae realigning themselves, he gazed out his open balcony doors to the horizon.  The deep purple where sea and sky met satisfied him that there was still plenty of time before sunrise to grab the day's first cup of coffee.  A brief rummage through his dresser turned up a tee-shirt which, along with his boxers, was sufficiently modest for appearing in the public rooms - especially considering the odds against anyone besides him and Logan being up at this hour.

            Five minutes and two 'bamfs' later, he crouched contentedly on the rail of his balcony, cradling a cup of the strong, bitter brew that Logan put on first thing every morning and waiting in the cool, gray pre-dawn for the sun to make its appearance over the sea.  He felt...lighter...somehow this morning, and more refreshed than he had in weeks - despite the fact that it was well before dawn and he hadn't sought his bed until well after midnight he was more than ready to face the day.  

            He and Kitty had stayed up long after the movie was over and the rest of the household had staggered off to bed - all but Logan and the Professor anyway, whose intermittent forays past the open rec room door had ensured the relative 'innocence' of their tryst.  Curled together in a corner of the couch, they'd talked for hours about everything and nothing - really no different from how they'd spent any number of Friday nights in the past.  But everything had been different about this one - from the lingering awkwardness of Evan's tactless comments and the way most of the New Mutants had been so obviously trying not to stare at them during the movie, to the way Kitty stroked her hands idly through his fur or stretched up to brush his lips with hers as they spoke.  He let his eyes slip shut at the memory of her slender fingers and the warmth that had spread through him at their touch.

            She hadn't pressed him about his earlier confession and he hadn't volunteered - although for the first time in his life he thought that he actually might, in time.  It was strangely... freeing...to know that he'd shown her his worst, told her things he'd never trusted to another, and it hadn't driven her away.  But he'd bared more than enough of his soul for one night, and there would be plenty of other opportunities for confession.  Instead, they had spoken of her family, their friends, her excitement about their trip into New York.  It had been well past two when he'd reluctantly left her at her door and retreated to his own room and the cold solitude of his bed.  

            The horizon had brightened steadily as he crouched there, lost in thought.  Muted pinks and purples gradually suffused the striated clouds hovering offshore.  And now, as he watched, the sun nudged slowly above the horizon, appearing in the narrow strip of clear sky above the sea as the clouds themselves seemed almost to catch fire, glowing with all the vibrant colors of dawn.  Finishing the last of his rapidly cooling coffee he gave himself over to the brief but mesmerizing daily miracle of the sunrise.  No matter how long he lived here, Kurt felt certain that he would never tire of watching the sun rise over the sea.   

            Kitty clenched her eyes shut against the light streaming through her window and made a last, futile effort to hold onto the drifting tatters of the dream she'd been enjoying before her alarm clock so rudely shattered it.  Velvet fur, warm lips, rough hands skimming tenderly across her bare skin.

            _Damn!  No use_.

            Giving up, she blinked sleepily in the subdued light filtering in through the gap in her curtains and instead stretched luxuriously, enjoying the warm, contented feeling that washed over her as she thought back on the night before.  Walking slowly back through the dark woods in comfortable silence.  Their path lit only by the thin, silver shafts of moonlight that lanced through the branches above.  Leaning into Kurt's warm velvet side and allowing him to guide her easily past obstacles that were never more than dimly seen shadows to her.  His arm draped loosely across her shoulders and his tail wrapped snugly around her waist had felt...right...in a way she'd never anticipated and she'd relaxed contentedly into the gentle embrace.

            It had been almost surreal, to walk beside him in the dream-like peace of the moonlit woods, completely at ease with each other, after his agonized revelations of such a short time before.  She'd known that she was going to have to think about what had happened eventually.  Have to reconcile what she'd seen and what he'd said with everything she'd _thought_ she'd known of him before.  Have to wonder what else he'd left unsaid.  But not then, and not now.  Eventually could come later.  

            For now she wanted to concentrate on the memory of the warm press of him against her side as they'd walked and the reassuring knowledge that, whatever had happened in the past and whatever uncertainties the future might hold, here and now he was hers, body and soul.  Rolling over with a contented sigh, she flipped the covers back and prepared to face what promised to be a _very_ good day.

            Amara jumped back from the door to the dining room, nose wrinkled with disgust as she glared at the fuzzy blue mutant clinging to the wall just below the ceiling.  "I wish you wouldn't **do** that!"

            "Do what?" he asked, grinning innocently.  He knew the answer, but he was in a particularly good mood this morning and for some reason that was manifesting in a perverse desire to irritate the younger mutant.  

            When her continued glare did not have the desired effect she finally condescended to answer him.  "Well, teleport inside for one thing.  But if you've **got** to do it, you could at least land on the floor like a normal person."

            "But fraulein, I am most decidedly _not_ normal," and he waved his tail playfully at her.  Even her exaggerated flinch couldn't ruin his mood this morning.  For once, he simply didn't care.  "Besides," he added, "if I'd landed on the floor, we would have been occupying approximately the same space.  Now, I've never actually _tried_ that, but I'm thinking it would probably _not_ be a good idea."

            He winked and she paled visibly, obviously considering the rather unappealing possibilities.  "Oh," she finally said in a small voice as he pushed effortlessly off from the wall and flipped gracefully to the floor behind her - and she was so distracted by her concern over her 'close call' that she actually forgot to flinch or shudder at that.  Looking a tad green around the gills now, and without so much as looking back at him, she pushed open the heavy oak door to the dining room.

            "Allow me," he told her, still smiling as he slipped easily past her to hold the door with a brief, but elegant, bow.  She eyed him suspiciously for a moment, as though trying to decide if he was serious, before inclining her head slightly and stepping through with a grudging, "Thank you."

            "Aaah, _smell_ that bacon," he sighed happily as he followed her through the door.  "I'm not sure which I appreciate more; my own room back, windows, or Frau Ramirez's excellent cooking."

            Amara paid him no more mind as she made a bee-line for the groaning sideboard and quickly filled her plate before sitting alone, down at one end of the long, mahogany table.  Only a few others were already there - the 'early' crowd as Kurt tended to think of them - Scott, Herr McCoy and, of course, Logan.  Both adults looked up from their plates and eyed him appraisingly for a long moment after he entered.  He returned their regard with a cheerful salute and an open grin before heading over to fill his own plate with the bounty of Frau Ramirez's kitchen.

            As he opened the lid on the steaming platter of bacon he decided, for possibly the dozenth time this week, that this was _definitely_ the best part of being back 'home'.  No more lumpy porridge, undercooked bacon or over-salted soups and stews.  Not to mention the significant increase in their always limited free time now that they were back to being rotating kitchen 'help' rather than being responsible for all the cooking and cleaning.

            After happily loading up on bacon, eggs, waffles with syrup, nice _smooth_ oatmeal and another steaming mug of good, dark coffee, he slid into his usual spot beside Logan.

            "Elf," the older man grunted by way of a greeting.  "Yer sure chipper this mornin', ain't ya?"

            Kurt glanced up at him, surprised at the unaccustomed attempt at conversation.  Logan usually ate his breakfast rapidly and in silence, then made his escape before too many of the kids came in and cranked up the volume.  In fact, since the teenage population of the mansion had more than doubled with the addition of the New Recruits, it hadn't been that uncommon for him to take his meals alone in the small staff kitchen - especially dinner on nights after he'd had the newbies in the Danger Room.  Kurt assumed that there was only so much chatter his nerves could stand with his hyper-sensitive hearing.  

            Since his moth- **Mystique** - had destroyed the mansion, though, Logan had returned to taking most of his meals with them.  Kurt wondered idly how long that would last now that life was returning to some kind of normalcy.  After all, even with the loss of Rahne and Jubilee, there were still considerably more teenagers around the place than he suspected Logan had originally signed on for.

            His reverie was interrupted by a light jab in the ribs.  "Hey.  Elf.  Ya in there?"  Logan inquired in an only mildly irritated growl.

            "Hmm?  Ja.  Sorry my Freund.  Just lost in thought for a moment."

            "Hmph.  Yeah, I suppose it's pretty easy to get lost when ya spend so little time there."

            Kurt looked at him blankly for a moment before his face broke out in a slow smile.  "A joke, Logan?  Did you actually make a joke?" he asked teasingly as Herr McCoy's low, rich chuckle rumbled across the table.

            "Who says I'm jokin' Fuzzball?" Logan replied, his face set in its habitual scowl.  "I'm dead serious."  But there was something in his eyes, something that reminded Kurt of too many beers and an ill-fated effort to induce a certain surly Canadian to sing.

            "_Whatever _you say, mein Freund," he answered with a smirk, before turning his attention to where Scott sat across the table, looking somewhat surprised by the Wolverine's unexpected foray into breakfast table banter.  

            "And how are you this morning, oh Fearless Leader?"  

            It was the first time he'd actually spoken directly to Scott since Thursday night's fiasco, and Kurt was, truth to tell, somewhat nervous about where he and Scott stood at this point.  Any lingering awkwardness could make this day more than a little uncomfortable.  He needn't have worried; though the older boy seemed a little subdued there was no hesitation in his response.

            "Fine Kurt," the he replied easily around a mouthful of bacon.  "You ready to take New York by storm today?"

            "It won't know what hit it!"

            "It sure as hell _better_ not!" Logan interjected with a dark look at both boys.  "Scooter, you better keep the squirrel here outa trouble or you two won't see daylight again for a month."

            "I know, I know Logan," Scott interrupted in an exasperated sing-song, his mouth turning down in irritation.  "No powers - of any kind," and he looked meaningfully at Kurt, who plastered on his stock "who, me?" look automatically.  "Make _sure_ he has spare batteries for the watch and a spare watch just in case," Scott continued, switching his attention back to Logan.  "No large crowds, no jostling, stay out of the bad parts of town...."  As Scott continued through the litany that Logan had been pounding into the four of them all week, Kurt was fairly sure that he was rolling his eyes behind the barrier of his ubiquitous sunglasses.  

            "Fine, Slim.  Just make sure you remember it all when it counts," Logan announced when Scott finally finished.  He pointedly ignored the patronizing grin Herr McCoy was directing his way as he fixed each boy with a penetrating glare.

            At that moment the door swung open and they all looked up as Kitty walked in, hair still damp from the shower and dressed for a day on the town.  Watching her pause at the door and look his way, Kurt wondered dimly if he really had the idiotic grin plastered on his face that it felt like he did.

            "Ew," she announced, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she surveyed the four men at the end of the table.  "What is it with guys and pig products?"

            All four of them looked simultaneously down at their plates and Kurt snickered as he realized that they each had a huge mound of bacon piled in front of them.

            "Is grease a food group around here or something?" she asked as she moved over to the sideboard and filled her plate with a vegetarian selection before sliding into the empty seat on Kurt's other side.  He thought perhaps he could die happy when she leaned over and brushed a soft kiss across his cheek.  He didn't even care about the disgusted glare Amara was shooting them from the other end of the table. 

            "Morning, Fuzzy.  Up to anything this morning besides clogging your arteries?"

            He felt his tail twine itself comfortably around her ankle and grinned at her before answering.  "Just waiting to see how long it will take Herr Logan to have an apoplectic fit as he contemplates all the trouble we could get into in New York, Liebe."  He ignored the irritated growl from the party in question as he continued.  "Did you know that Bobby actually has a pool going on how long it will take before he calls to check up on us?"

            "Elf!  You know you can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, don't you?" the older mutant snarled as he stood up from the table, his now empty plate in hand.

            "I should hope so," Kurt responded, his mouth tipping into a grin despite his best efforts to the contrary.  "I would hate to think I'm wasting all this effort." 

            Logan's only response was to roll his eyes in exasperation as he stalked from the room, the sound of hastily stifled laughter following him all the way to the hall.

            "You know, Kurt.  One of these days you're going to actually tick him off and he's going to pound you good," Scott informed him, trying, and failing spectacularly, to sound serious.

            "He could try, but he'd have to catch me first," Kurt responded with a self-satisfied smirk.  "And even the Wolverine would find that difficult."

            "You do realize," Herr McCoy interrupted as he rose from his seat at the end of the table, "that you have invalidated the pool by making Logan aware of it?"  The large blue man sounded rather aggrieved and Kurt chuckled at the realization that the older man had actually joined in the betting.

            "Sorry to blow your shot at riches, Herr McCoy," he answered, without any noticeable feeling of remorse.  "But I figured if he knows he's being bet on, he's much less likely to actually give in to the temptation to harass the shit out of us all day.  After all, he's not going to want to give anyone the pleasure of collecting."

            The good doctor rolled his eyes in good-natured amusement at the younger man's plotting.  "If I might hazard a conjecture on the subject, I imagine your apriorism is quite accurate, my hirsute blue compatriot.  You will doubtless enjoy your peregrinations entirely free from Logan's hectoring."

            "Um, he does that on purpose, doesn't he?" Kitty asked rather plaintively as Herr McCoy turned and made his way from the room.  

            "Oh yeah," Scott answered with a snort of amusement, though there'd been no real need.  The low chuckle that cut off abruptly as the door closed behind the older mutant was more than answer enough.

            By the time they assembled on the mansion's front steps at 9:00 the light cloud cover which had made the sunrise so spectacular had completely disappeared, leaving a beautiful, sunny morning in its wake.  Kurt wrapped his arms lightly around Kitty's waist and settled his chin atop her head as they waited for Scott to bring his little red convertible around from the garage.  Logan was, yet again, running through his list of do's and don'ts (mostly don'ts), after having checked both the watch Kurt was wearing and his spare, as well as the batteries for both.  Kurt let the older man's monologue wash over him as he enjoyed the feel of Kitty in his arms, the sparkle of sunlight on the sea, and the prospect of an entire day away from mutant central.  

            Jean and Kitty had already taken 'orders' from Amara and Tabby as to what they absolutely **had** to bring back from the City, and Kurt had promised Jamie a souvenir of some kind, though he really had no idea what to get the younger boy.  Hopefully something would jump out and grab him while they were there.  He let his attention drift to the head of the stairs, where the Professor and Jean were going over the list of establishments they were to visit in the morning and early afternoon and the times that they were expected, as well as their dinner and theater reservations for the evening.  

            "Elf!  Are you listenin' to me?"  He jumped as Logan's penetrating growl reclaimed his wandering attention, his arms tightening reflexively around Kitty's waist.  He was saved from having to answer the question by Scott's timely arrival as he pulled into the circular drive and stopped at the foot of the stairs.  

            "Sorry Logan, gotta go!" he announced cheerfully, before placing his lips next to Kitty's ear and warning her quietly, "Hold on, Liebe."  With twin bursts of smoke they disappeared from the top of the steps, only to appear a fraction of a second later on the far side of Scott's convertible - a distance at which Kurt felt it was fairly safe to pretend not to hear Logan's irritated growl.  

            "You know, Fuzzy.  I wish you'd give me just a _little_ bit more warning in future," Kitty told him as she vigorously fanned away the rapidly dissipating cloud of purple smoke that had heralded their arrival.  "I don't really mind it so much anymore, but I prefer to have a moment to prepare myself for the shock."

            "Sorry, Liebe," he murmured apologetically, taking the opportunity to run his lips along the edge of her ear.  "I was just afraid that if we didn't get away from him quickly, we'd be stuck there all morning.  You **know** he would have insisted on repeating the whole speech if he thought I wasn't listening."

            "And **were** you?"

            "Listening?  Of course not," he answered with a grin.  "Just because Logan's developed a mother hen complex late in life doesn't mean I have to humor him.  Besides, you weren't listening either - and don't even _try_ and claim that you were."

            "Hey, are you two coming or what?" 

            The unaccustomed curtness in Scott's tone distracted him from further attentions to Kitty's oh-so-fascinating ear, and he looked up to meet the older boy's irritated gaze.  "Jawohl, oh Fearless Leader," he replied, unwrapping arms and tail from Kitty's person and looking up to where Jean was now jogging down the steps to join them.

            "Sorry Scott," Kitty chimed in, laughing as she pushed away from Kurt's arms.  "The Fuzzy Wonder's pretty easily distracted this morning."

            "I resent that, Liebe," he shot back, still grinning.  "I am not easily distracted - **you** are just supremely distracting!"  He dropped a kiss on the back of her neck and goosed her lightly, ignoring her squeal of outrage as he ducked past her and vaulted into the back seat of the little convertible just as Jean opened the passenger door and slipped into place beside Scott.

            He looked up at Kitty where she still stood next to the car, directing a not very convincing glare his way.  "Are you coming, Katzchen?" he asked, fixing her with a look of wide-eyed innocence as she shook her head in mock-exasperation and hopped lightly into the seat next to him.

            "You know Fuzzball, I'd tell you to keep your furry hands to yourself, but I'm afraid you might actually listen."  Whatever witty response he might have managed was promptly forgotten as she leaned over and pressed warm lips to his in a **very** distracting way.  He was more than happy to respond in kind, pointedly disregarding assorted catcalls from their team-mates where they had assembled on the stairs to see them off.

            It was Scott's decidedly irritated voice that finally cut through their mutual absorption and brought them, blushing and short of breath, back to the present.  "If you two could forget the lip-lock for the moment and put your seat belts on we might actually be able to get the hell out of here."

            No sooner had they begun to fumble with their seatbelts than Scott had his foot on the gas and they were heading down the long drive to the gates.  Kurt hoped that, for once, there wouldn't be a crowd of protestors waiting for them.  Noting the tense set of Scott's shoulders, he took a moment to examine his friend's face where it was reflected in the rear-view mirror.  He'd been a bit taciturn this morning at breakfast and now he _definitely_ seemed a bit...off.  

            "Okay mein Freund, what's got your shorts in a knot?"  Jean turned in her seat to glower at him, but he ignored her and raised one eye-brow at Scott's reflection in the mirror.

            "It's no big deal, Kurt," the older boy responded after a moment.  "I just talked to Alex last night before bed, and he's decided not to join us when school gets out."

            "Wait, let me guess - he doesn't want to miss the good surfing weather?"  Kurt rather liked the younger Summers, all things considered, but he did seem to have a rather odd set of priorities and that was just the kind of reasoning Kurt would expect from him.

            "Not quite, but not far off," Scott replied, a distinct note of disappointment in his voice.  "He's decided that he'd rather pursue a professional surfing career than do the 'mutant super-hero thing'."  Scott grimaced in distaste at the description of their life-style and Kitty snorted in disdain.  "He'll come out for a week or two this summer, but, as he pointed out, the surf around here really wouldn't further his career goals."

            Somehow, Kurt doubted that the laid back surfer boy had phrased things quite like that.  After all, the kid could make Kitty's worst days look positively articulate, speaking of which....

            "Doesn't he, like, realize how dangerous it is for mutants out there right now?" she piped up.  "He'd be, like, so much safer here."

            Jean placed a hand on Scott's shoulder, which had visibly tensed.  "He'll be fine Kitty."  Her words may have been directed at the younger girl, but they were obviously meant for Scott.  "Hawaii hasn't had the anti-mutant backlash that the rest of the country has experienced."

            Kurt put a quelling hand on Kitty's knee and squeezed gently as she opened her mouth to respond, then sighed in relief as she closed her mouth with an almost audible snap and turned to look quizzically at him.  He just gave her a meaningful look and jerked his head toward the front seat, where Scott sat, chewing his lip in irritation as he waited for the heavy wrought-iron gates to slide open.

            "I know that Jean.  It's just...dammit!  He doesn't have control over his powers yet.  He should be _here_, where we can help him.  What if he loses control?  What if someone gets hurt?"  His voice had risen as he spoke, and when the gates finally opened far enough to let them pass the little red car shot through them with an uncharacteristic squeal of tires.  At almost any other time, Kurt would have enjoyed the sight of protesters running to get out of the way, but this morning he was more intent on his friend's bad mood - and the reason for it.

            "I don't think Hawaii'll be so laid back about mutants if they find out they actually have one," Scott ground out as they hit the road and fish-tailed briefly.  "Especially one that could level all of Honolulu in an hour without breaking a sweat."

            Jean was kneading his shoulder rhythmically and Kurt could tell from the cadence of Scott's argument that this was just a repeat of an earlier conversation.  In his agitation, Scott was actually driving with none of his usual caution.  He was taking the corners on the winding, tree-lined road tight and fast, with much squealing of tires - a fact which Kurt would have enjoyed immensely under different circumstances.  As it was, he simply felt bad for having brought up a tender subject.  What a way to start off their big day out.

            He was about to chip in with a reassuring inanity when Scott took a particularly tight turn a little too fast.  The tires protested with another squeal as the little convertible slipped sideways across the center line.  Kurt watched with almost detached curiosity as Scott tried, with limited success, to bring the little car back under control and then it all became academic.  

            There was a disconcerting "FOOMP" and the car shuddered erratically.  The world slowed as the rear of the car spun wildly while they simultaneously skidded completely into the wrong lane.  Kurt had an all too brief moment of clarity to realize they must have blown a tire and to be thankful that there was no oncoming traffic before time restarted itself as they hit the opposite shoulder going sideways and backwards.  

            For a second or two he feared that the change of surface combined with the blowout and their speed would cause the tiny car to roll, and he strained against his seatbelt to reach forward, placing a hand on Scott's shoulder and preparing to teleport, trusting Kitty to take care of herself and Jean if necessary.  He'd gotten no farther than that when the car shuddered to an abrupt and wrenching halt.  A glance up front confirmed his suspicion.  Jean sat hunched over in the passenger seat, Kitty's hand on her shoulder mirroring Kurt's grip on Scott, her hands just drifting away from her temples as she released whatever telekinetic force she'd used to stop their skid.

            In the sudden quiet, the sound of four sets of lungs working like bellows was unnaturally loud.  Kurt was making a concerted effort to calm his own adrenaline fueled foray into hyper-ventilation before inquiring after the state of everyone's health when Scott abruptly slammed both fists down hard on the steering wheel with a muffled oath before letting his head drop to join them with a hollow thunk.  There followed a long moment of tense silence before Kurt broke it for the simple reason that he couldn't stand it any more.

            "Dankeschoene Jean," he murmured with heartfelt gratitude, meeting the redhead's eyes in the rearview mirror as she looked up for the first time since they'd slid to a halt.

            "Yeah, like, thanks Jean," Kitty echoed as she phased out of her seatbelt and slid into Kurt's lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as she did so.

            "Is everyone okay?"  Scott's voice was muffled from his continued position face down on the steering wheel, but Kurt had no trouble catching the bitter self-recrimination in his tone.

            "Fein."

            "Yes."

            "Yeah."

            Finally, the older boy raised his head and turned to face them all.  "I'm really sorry about that guys," he started, his voice heavy and Kurt was sure his eyes behind the ever-present shades were burning with shame.

            "Come on, mein Freund," Kurt exclaimed with all the cheer his jarred nerves could muster.  "You can be just as sorry while we change the tire."  He unfastened his seatbelt and gave Kitty a reassuring smile as he slipped out from under her and vaulted out of the back seat.  "Everyone out!  We have a long day ahead of us and I, for one, don't want to spend any more of it here than necessary."

            Kitty followed his lead and phased out to stand next to him.

            "Yeah, come on you two.  I want to get the Prof's shopping done A.S.A.P. so I can do some of my own.  Get the lead out already."

            Jean opened her door and slid out, casting him a grateful smile as Scott undid his seatbelt and jumped out as well.

            "Okay Kurt," he announced, still sounding subdued, but with the ring of authority coming back into his voice.  "The jack and the wrench are in the trunk.  You get them while I check out the tire and get the spare."

            "Jawohl, mein Herr," Kurt replied with a grin as he moved to follow orders.       

            _Mission__ accomplished_!  Scott focused on something he could fix was infinitely preferable to Scott focused on self-flagellation.

            _Thanks Kurt_.  Jean's mental touch was light and unintrusive and he only flinched slightly before responding.

            _No problem_.

            He had just extracted the requested items when a large SUV cruised around the corner and pulled to an abrupt stop not fifteen feet away.  "Good Samaritans," he commented to Scott, jerking his head their way as a small crowd of twenty-somethings piled haphazardly out of the vehicle.  Jean and Kitty were already moving to reassure the newcomers that they were all right and needed no help, so he shifted his attention back to where Scott knelt, still examining the remains of the shredded tire.  

            "Kurt, there's something not right about this," the older boy began before cutting off abruptly as a small metal canister landed on the ground between the two of them.  For a fraction of a second Kurt found himself staring in mixed curiosity and confusion at the dull gray cylinder before it literally exploded, sending a thick cloud of yellowish smoke billowing from it to fill the air around them.  Kurt's surprised gasp at this totally unexpected turn of events was more than sufficient to fill his lungs with the gas hanging in the air.  He clamped his mouth shut, determined not to inhale any more of the noxious substance, and looked up, lungs burning and eyes smarting from the smoke to meet Scott's panicked gaze as the older boy tried to lurch awkwardly to his feet.  He had obviously gotten a lungful of whatever was in the canister as well.  As one they turned to where the girls had gone to meet the 'Good Samaritans' and Kurt felt his heart bottom out at the sight of their limp bodies being unceremoniously loaded into the back of the SUV.  

            It had only been a second, two at the outside, since the he'd sucked in the strange gas, but the world was already starting to turn gray around the edges and spin disturbingly.  He heard a muffled thump to his left and realized that Scott must have just fallen in his attempt to rise.  He'd been kneeling by the canister when it exploded and must have gotten a more concentrated dose of whatever it was - sedative or poison, Kurt didn't even want to guess.  

            With what little was left of his rapidly fading consciousness he triggered a teleport, not even sure what destination, if any, he had in mind; he only knew that he had to do _something_, had to at least try to get away.  There was a painful, sickening lurch and the smell of brimstone briefly overpowered the acrid scent of the smoke that had surrounded him, before the world went completely black and he hit the ground hard.

***********************************************

Okay, I just want to apologize to anyone who finds the events in this chapter extremely disappointing.  I know some of you have been expecting this to be all about Kurt and Kitty exploring their relationship and his past.  You've asked for more stuff about how their team-mates react, what goes on at school, etc....  I've gotten comments about how pointless the 'surveillance' chapters were and suggesting that they should be deleted as some kind of bizarre and distracting anomaly.  Sorry to disappoint, but this chapter is actually what the entire story's been heading toward since page one.  The chapters in the woods were actually originally intended to have been something of a break-up scene for Kurt and Kitty - with things never having gone as far as they now have - but the two of them didn't feel cooperative.  So, here we are FINALLY.

If anyone remembers, I did say quite a while ago that things would get much worse before they got better - we're now heading into the much worse bit.  Be prepared....

Thanks for reading and PLEASE REVIEW.      Writers thrive on feedback.  It inspires us...


	22. Spirited Away

And here it is, chapter 22.  Hope it was worth the wait!  Huge thanks again to Sue Penkivech, super-beta extraordinaire.  Equally huge thanks to all you amazingly wonderful people who take the time to review.  You have no idea (okay, maybe you do) what kind of warm fuzzies reviews give me.

Just in case anyone is getting any weird ideas, I still do not own any of the X-Men.  The few characters I **do** own in this little fiasco are not people to whom I am particularly attached - let's face it, they're all irredeemable assholes thus far - and not likely to show much improvement.  

SPIRITED AWAY

            Newcombe nearly shit himself when their target took one staggering step and then disappeared in a burst of thick, purple smoke.  He could feel the blood drain from his face as raw fear seized him.  The sedative hadn't worked.  The damn thing was loose.  The only one they **had** to bring in, and it was loose.

            "Oh, holy fuck!" he cursed as his eyes widened in panic.  Not again.  The damn thing _couldn't_ fuckin' get away again.  Hell, the Brass wouldn't even bat an eyelash if the other three didn't come through alive, so long as the fucking teleporter was in one piece - and it had just disappeared.  

            _Oh fuck!_

            His panic had barely had time to coalesce into a ragged knot in his gut before the thing reappeared not ten feet from where it had started, wove awkwardly on its feet for no more than a second, then collapsed in an inelegant heap in the roadside dirt.  Newcombe mumbled a swift thanks to whatever god or saint watched over soldiers and darted over to check his charge, Williams hard on his heels.

            Some fuckin' _reward_ for figurin' out the freak's secret - the _honor_ of being responsible for its capture.  He could've fuckin' done without _that_ kind of honor, thanks.  Williams, on the other hand - little butt-kisser - was so fuckin' honored that Newcombe thought he just might burst.  Damn idiot.

            He reached the thing's side just steps ahead of the boy and paused, grimacing in distaste, before crouching down to check its vital signs.  Hell, at least it was in its 'human' form.  He wasn't sure if he could do this if he'd been looking at a furry blue demon.

            They were on a tight schedule, so he pushed his hesitation aside at the thought of touching one of _them_ and put his hand to the creature's throat, checking for its pulse - and nearly jumped right out of his skin.

            "Shit!" he yelped in surprise as his fingers brushed against what was unmistakably a pelt.

            "What you so fuckin' jumpy 'bout, Jason?" Williams asked.  "Not like the damn thing's gonna bite you, it's out cold."

            He didn't answer as he forced his breathing back to normal and his hand back to the creature's pulse point.  Its heartbeat was slow and steady, just as it should be under the sedative's influence.  He pulled his hand back with a jerk the moment he'd confirmed that fact, then shifted his attention to verifying that the thing was, indeed, breathing normally.  With this particular tranq there was _some_ danger of shutting down autonomic functions with an overdose, and he had an epi-pen with the antidote to administer if necessary.  No need though, its chest was rising and falling in a slow but regular rhythm.  

            A quick glance at his watch showed they were pushing the edge of their schedule - it had been four minutes since McComb had shot out the muties' tire on the corner and a full 68 seconds since they'd pulled up to the scene.  Time to get a move-on and bloody well hope that the drug they'd hit the teep with had taken her down before she'd 'called' for help.

            "Get its legs," he barked at Williams as he shifted around to grab the limp creature by its arm-pits.  The kid obliged quickly and Newcombe crushed a smirk as the boy made the same discovery he'd made moments before.  He might be picking up something that _looked_ human, but it was still that misshapen mutie freak underneath.  With a startled yelp, Williams almost dropped the thing's legs as he actually _felt_ how thoroughly misshapen they actually were.

            To his credit, though, the kid collected himself quickly.  Firming his grip, he hoisted the mutie's legs up as Newcombe heaved up its top half.  It was, he reflected, very unnerving to look down and _see_ a rather non-descript teenage boy in khakis and a button down, but _feel_ some oddly proportioned monster in a slick, form-fitting bodysuit of some kind.

            Newcombe met his partner's wide-eyed stare across the body and jerked his head toward the waiting Suburban.  They were the last team left - the mutie bitches were already loaded up and the freak with the glasses and the destructive eye-beams was just being heaved into the back as they headed that way.  

            A quick glance around confirmed that the clean-up crew was also almost finished with their work.  They'd pulled up in a large, white semi about thirty seconds after the tranquilizers had been deployed and already almost all evidence of their presence, as well as that of the mutie freaks, had been eliminated.  As Newcombe watched, a crew pushed the freaks' car up a ramp into the back of the waiting semi.  As per plan, by the time the muties figured out they were missin' some of their own, there shouldn't even a bad smell left for the Wolverine to pick up on. 

            By the time the two of them got the creature to the SUV, Dr. Meier, a fussy little man with thick glasses and a voice as wispy as he was, was staring their way and wringing his hands nervously.

            "Bring it here, quickly," he commanded - or tried to anyway.  The effect was pretty much ruined by his voice, though his imperious manner almost made up for it.  "You didn't damage it, did you?'

            "No...sir," Newcombe responded grudgingly.  It irked him to have to give this strange little man that much respect.  "Vitals are within tolerance."

            The scientist's eyes slid over him briefly as he spoke, then immediately dismissed him as of no importance.  His blood burned at the snub.  As they slid the limp form into the back of the Suburban, next to its equally limp companions, the little man shouldered his way in, intent on checking his prize for himself.

            "Doctor!  That will have to wait!"  Newcombe looked up at the owner of the voice and saluted smartly, Williams following suit just a heartbeat later.  Captain Greene halted beside them, his imperturbable gaze fixed on the doctor who paused, hand hovering uncertainly over the thing.

            "You two!  Load up and prepare to move out!"

            "Yes SIR!"  Their voices were in almost perfect unison as they turned and trotted off to their assigned positions - another _honor_ - in the vehicle which was taking their...acquisitions...to the airstrip.  The semi was already pulling away and, glancing at his watch again, Newcombe noted that the traffic diversions that the other teams had set up down the road in either direction should be breaking up at any moment.  

            _Right on schedule._

            "In the vehicle NOW, Doctor."  The Captain snapped in a tone that brooked no argument.  "You can examine it at your leisure once it's loaded for the flight, and I'm sure  you'll be able to poke and prod it to your heart's content once it's safely delivered.  For now, however, we have to get the hell out of here."

            A moment later the irritating little man was forcibly propelled through the rear door and into the seat next to him, followed quickly by the Captain sliding into shotgun position.  Sergeant Masters had already covered the bodies with a tarpaulin, and he now closed the hatch and sprinted around to take his position in the driver's seat.  The other six men who had originally arrived in the SUV had already left in the semi with the clean up team, Masters, Meier and the Captain taking their places in the Suburban for the trip to the airstrip.  

            As they pulled out onto the road, Newcombe glanced back at the now empty section of shoulder then down at his watch one last time.  A grand total of eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds had elapsed since the tire had blown and they were leaving the scene with four unconscious mutants, no witnesses, and no evidence save a fresh set of skid marks on a section of road that was already layered with them.  Not too damn bad.

            The thirty minute drive to a decommissioned military air field passed in tense silence, broken only by radio updates from the other teams confirming the success of all phases of the operation.  The 'accidents' that had cleared Graymalkin Lane of all traffic during the pick-up had been cleared with no sign of suspicion by the authorities, the semi carrying the muties' car had crossed state lines with no difficulty and would be dropping the vehicle at the side of a little-used rural road in less than two hours.  It wasn't likely to be found for days.  The only thing left to ensure complete success was to get their prizes loaded on the C-130 Hercules idling on the tarmac ahead of them.  After that, it would be the flight crew's problem to see their cargo safely delivered to the mutant holding and training facility that was their ultimate destination.

            There were already crews waiting for them, stretchers ready, and the second that the Suburban pulled to a halt it was surrounded by a flurry of activity.  Captain Greene supervised from a distance while Sergeant Masters oversaw the actual transfer of the unconscious muties.  He and Williams were again given the dubious honor of dealing with their 'prize' and Newcombe struggled not to let his discomfort show under the watchful eyes of his superior as he helped shift the limp body.  

            With a grunt of effort they hoisted awkward weight of the stretcher and began to move across the uneven tarmac, towards the ramp leading up into the belly of the waiting plane.  Masters had almost had to forcibly restrain Dr. Meier through the entire process, but once they were safely moving the obsessed little man shouldered his way forward, mumbling excitedly to himself all the while.

            Newcombe watched with interest as Meier reached for the creature's wrist, pleasantly anticipating the irritating little runt's discomfiture when his fingers met fur rather than flesh.  To his disappointment and disgust, Meier's face broke out in a wide grin.

            "Well I'll be," the little man murmured happily.  "It must be possessed of some ability to project illusion.  Not a shape-shifter at all.  How terribly fascinating...."

            His hands had never stopped moving as he spoke: pushing up an invisible sleeve, running eagerly across the thing's face, chest and arms as he apparently tried to discern the creature's true form by touch.

            "Amazing how it can maintain the illusion despite being unconscious.  It will be _so_ interesting to study."

            They were moving up the ramp now, and Sergeant Masters tugged Meier away so that they could maneuver the stretcher safely up into the back of the Hercules' cavernous cargo bay.  Six metal exam tables and a small medical supply cabinet were securely anchored in place there, with a green canvas curtain separating them from the forward portion of the transport's belly.  Newcombe could still hear Meier close behind, mumbling distractedly to himself about the difficulties of running tests on a subject when he couldn't _see_ its veins.

            Newcombe and Williams carried the stretcher across the floor and lowered it next to the table indicated by Meier's assistant, who had been waiting at the ramp.  Steeling himself to touch the freak one last time, he helped Williams heave the creature, none too gently, onto the table - an action that was quickly repeated with the other muties by the men who had carried them.

            They stepped back quickly as Meier and his flunky made a bee-line for the freak, ignoring the rest of their charges for the time-being.  Williams quickly bent and folded the litter, tucking it beneath an arm before turning to leave.  Newcombe took the opportunity to pause, stealing a quick glance at their acquisitions - and blushed red to the roots of his hair when he caught sight of the little dark-haired one.  He remembered vividly what he'd seen her doing with the deformed freak last night.  She was a pretty little piece, despite being a mutant bitch, and he felt the bile rise in his throat again as he thought of her - of anyone - willingly touching that...thing...intimately.  

            He was suddenly very eager to get away from the mutie scum, and began to slip quickly between the exam tables, both empty and occupied, following the men heading past the curtain to the line of seats on either side of the transport's front 'wall'. 

            "Newcombe!"  The captain's sharp voice stopped him just two strides from the canvas wall that separated Meier's little domain from the rest of the cargo bay.  He watched longingly as Williams retreated through the curtain and into the shadows of the Hercules' interior.

            "Sir?" he responded, snapping to attention.  

            "You will provide security for the first watch."  Meier's mousy little head shot up at the words and he added, in an uncharacteristically placating tone.  "Just in case.  I'm sure that doctors Meier and Arensen have everything under control, but it can never hurt to be too careful when dealing with these animals."  

            Meier returned his attention to his 'toy', satisfied with this response, and Captain Greene continued, resuming his normal tone of command.  "You will also provide Dr. Meier with whatever assistance he may require of you."

            Silently Newcombe agreed wholeheartedly the muties should be under tight security, though he couldn't help wishing that it was someone **else** who was going to provide that extra measure of security.  "Yes, Sir!" however, was his only verbal response - it was, after all, the only response available to him.  

            He turned back and accepted the small tranquilizer gun the captain offered to him and tried, yet again, to keep his discomfort with his assignment concealed.  He was really starting to think that all this fucking _honor_ was just a disguised way of continuing the punishment for his failure at Winzeldorf.

            Kurt blinked his eyes blearily, then squinted them shut against the painful glare of light.  He felt light-headed and dizzy and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep - a leisure that was denied him by some obnoxious, thrumming noise jack-hammering through his brain.

            _Gott__, was in der Holle is that noise?_

            He wanted to yell at someone to turn off whatever the hell it was, but he couldn't force out anything louder than a feeble, croaking moan.  His mouth was dry and cottony and he had a repulsively rank taste lingering at the back of his throat.  He tried to bring a hand up to rub at his aching head and dry lips, but stopped, startled, as he realized that the hand in question was securely strapped to the bed...table?...next to him - as, he discovered when he tried to move it, was the other hand.  Tentative efforts to move his legs confirmed that they were similarly restrained.

            _Verfluckt__, what the hell have I done that they needed to do this?_  The pounding in his head seemed to increase exponentially at the possibility that he might actually have done something to cause the Professor to order him strapped down.  And that damn _noise_ hadn't stopped, its rhythmic pounding just adding to the pain in his head.  It was like some kind of huge engine, and he was beginning to feel like he was trapped _inside_ the verdammt thing.  

            His tail thrashed in agitation as he tried to wet his lips enough to call for help, and for some explanation of just what the hell had happened - and stopped, frozen, as he felt his tail smack painfully against the metal side of the table he lay on.  That wasn't right...it couldn't be right.  If the Professor had ordered him restrained, for whatever reason, he would have restrained _all_ of him.  The Professor know better than to leave his tail free if he wanted Kurt under control - a lesson he had, unfortunately, learned the hard way.  

            And that noise...it wasn't right either.  There was nothing near the medbay that could produce such a sound.  Even the table was wrong - hard and flat and cold against his...bare?...body.  Definitely wrong.  No padding, no bedding, no indecent and uncomfortable hospital gown.  Nothing but cold metal.

            He lay perfectly still and forced his disoriented and aching brain to focus....  What did he remember last?  The car...Scott's driving...the crash...strangers...GAS...Jean and Kitty and...

            _Durch__ die Eier des Teufels!  Bitte nein..._

            Kurt's heart beat a frantic tattoo in his chest as he remembered watching their limp bodies disappear into that verdammt SUV before blackness took him.  That still didn't tell him where he was or what was going on though.  He pushed his panic down and tried again to open his eyes the merest slit against the glare of the lights above - just as the world took a strange, jerky step down, then up and to the left.

            He suppressed a yelp of surprise with difficulty and heard, for the first time, voices that he couldn't quite make out, but definitely didn't recognize.  They were slightly behind him and to his left, not close, and not nearly far enough away for his comfort.  It took a moment for his stomach to settle and his head to stop pounding after the unexpected jostling.  

            At least he knew where he was now...sort of.  A plane.  The noise had to be the sound of engines and propellers, judging by its quality. They must have just hit a pocket of turbulence.  

            This definitely was not good.  He should have been _aware_ of the motion.  He should have _known_.  He realized, with a growing sense of alarm, that he had absolutely no sense of where he was, what direction he was moving in, the size of the space he was in or even whatever or whoever else might occupy it.  Nothing.  Forcing his mind to stillness he tried to consciously stretch his sense out to the world around him - and gasped in pain as he got a ten-fold increase of the pounding in his head for his trouble. 

            Now that he'd noticed them, Kurt was aware, even through his pain and nausea, of the almost constant murmur of voices off to one side, though he couldn't make out any words over the overpowering thrum of the plane's engines.  He was, however, certain that the voices were _not_ familiar.  

            He swallowed convulsively, grateful that, whoever they belonged to, they didn't seem to have noticed that he was awake.  He just hoped he could keep it that way until he figured out what, if anything, he could do about his situation.

            He lay immobile, even his tail still, as the awful truth sank in past the throbbing in his skull.  He had been drugged and abducted.  He was naked and strapped to an exam table on a plane going God only knows where, and he had no idea if his friends were there as well, or even if they were alive for that matter.  He stifled a moan at the last thought, thankful that the sound was lost in the noise of the engines.  Throw in the fact that whatever drug they'd used had left him with a skull-shattering headache and a churning stomach, as well as having completely trashed his usually infallible spatial awareness.  Yep, things looked just peachy.  Just fucking peachy.

            Newcombe sat on one of the few seats in this section of the C-130's hold, his tranq gun in his lap as he looked anywhere but at the unconscious mutants strapped to four of the six metal examining tables crammed into the space.  Meier and his flunky - Arensen, he thought, though he'd been paying as little attention to the two men as he could - were still huddled at one of the empty tables, exclaiming over the huge, clunky watch they'd taken off the freak when they were strapping it down.  

            _That_ had been quite the revelation, finding out that the creature wasn't a shape-shifter or an illusionist at all, that it just had some fancy-ass technology to hide its freakish appearance.  Newcombe wasn't sure whether he was more or less disturbed by that development.  On the one hand, the idea that one of _them_ could have the natural ability to conceal itself from humans was pretty sickening, but the thought that those freaks could actually get their hands on such advanced technology was positively frightening.  The two scientists had been fiddling with the damn thing, trying to figure out how the hell they'd managed to make the device so compact, ever since they'd stopped poking and prodding at the blue-furred freak himself.

            Newcombe was just _very_ grateful that he hadn't been expected to deal with it in any way.  Meier and...whats-his-name...had reserved that _privilege_ for themselves.  While they had strapped it down, and discovered its secret in the process, he had been told to make sure the other three were securely restrained and then to prep them each for an injection.  Meier himself had stripped the freak - thank God they'd only required him to push up the other ones' sleeves - and shaved a patch into its arm before injecting it with a sedative that should keep it out cold for at least the next four hours, then quickly administered the same drug to the other three captives.

            Once he'd carried out his instructions, Newcombe had seated himself in his chair and tried very hard to ignore the fact that the other two men were displaying a truly repulsive fascination with the freak's twisted anatomy.  They'd spent an inordinate amount of time examining its three-fingered hands and strange, animal-like legs as well as manipulating its tail through all manner of contortions and exclaiming over its flexibility and musculature.  All the while they'd eagerly discussed x-rays and MRIs and assorted other tests they planned to put it through at the first opportunity.  

            At least, now that they had shifted their attention to the enigma of the watch and those weird glasses they'd taken off the other male,  Newcombe could mostly ignore the freak's presence.  Almost two hours into the flight and he was beginning to think that 'first watch' was code for 'the whole damn trip, loser'.  He took a quick look at his charges, confirming that they were still out cold, and wondered yet again just what the hell he was really doing here.  The docs had the damn things drugged to the gills, it wasn't like 'security' was really necessary.  He heaved a sigh and shifted his attention back to the truly fascinating metal floor between his feet.  It could be worse, of course.  He wasn't quite sure _how_ at the moment, but he was certain that somehow it could definitely be worse.

            Kurt lay for what felt like hours, but was actually only moments, heart racing as he fought down the debilitating panic that was trying to overwhelm him.  He was naked, on an exam table, bound and drugged...it was any number of nightmares come to life...but every moment he wasted on panic increased the chance that one of his captors would notice that he was awake and take steps to remedy that fact - or something worse.  He had to assess his situation and act **now**, while he had a chance.

            On the plus side, abject terror and the associated adrenalin rush were doing wonders for his physical condition.  He'd managed to almost completely forget his pounding head and churning gut and he was feeling more alert by the second as he burned off the last remnants of whatever they'd drugged him with.  On the down side, he was also fighting the completely irrational urge to just slip his restraints and **run** - anywhere - and to hell with the fact that he was on a plane and had nowhere to run to.

            With great effort, he managed to kick his rational thought processes back into gear and stretched out with senses other than his spatial awareness.  He might not be a match for the Wolverine, but his other senses were still head and shoulders above a base-line human's.  He quickly gave up hope of learning much by listening however.  The drone of the plane's engines drowned out everything more than a few feet away.  He was fairly certain that the two voices he could still hear were no more than six to ten feet away, but, even bending all his concentration their way, he still couldn't make out a word. 

            Scent, however, was a different matter.  Once he'd mentally filtered out the astringent odor of antiseptic lingering in the air around him, as well as the acrid scent of fuel and the tang of metal, what was left was both reassuring and infuriating.  The others were here as well, probably restrained just as he was and no doubt still unconscious, as none of them had the benefit - or curse - of his ridiculously accelerated metabolism.  Their captors obviously had no idea how rapidly his body would burn through anything they gave him - in fact, he was probably lucky that they hadn't accidentally over-dosed him.

            At the thought of Kitty strapped to a table, naked and unconscious, he had to clamp down ruthlessly on the growl that wanted to thunder through his chest.  Someone was going to pay for this, and pay dearly.

            He forced himself to concentrate again.  The other scents that he could catch were muddled and indistinct in the wash of chemicals saturating the plane.  He knew there were at least two others, but his ears had already told him that.  He had a nagging feeling, though, that there _might_ be a third stranger present, he just couldn't be sure.  Trying to isolate a strange scent in this mix was virtually impossible - really, the only reason he'd been able to identify Kitty, Jean and Scott was because he knew the three of them so well.

            Finally, with a silent prayer that no one was looking, he risked slitting his eyes open against the glare of artificial light.  It was probably quite dim here, but the light still lanced through his head and made his eyes water with the pain.  Still, he forced them to remain open as he took in his surroundings.  He was, conveniently enough, facing to his left, the direction that the strange voices and scents were coming from.  He would have hated to risk turning his head to try and locate them.  Between him and them was a stainless steel gurney on which Jean's limp body lay - fully clothed, thank Gott, but strapped down just as he was, with leather buckles at wrist and ankle (or, in his case, hock).

            He'd think about exactly why they'd stripped him naked and left her clothed later, for now he looked past her and was rewarded with the sight of two - no three - men, no more than six feet away.  Two of them, in lab coats, were standing with their backs to him, huddled over something on a table that appeared to be bolted to the aircraft's curving side.  One was small, gray-haired and thin, almost to the point of being wispy, while the other was only somewhat taller, perhaps a bit younger, and more than a little on the hefty side.  Obviously, neither of them was a _physical_ threat.  It was their voices that he'd heard.  

            The third man, the one he'd almost over-looked, sat to their left, in a jump-seat that was bolted to the wall next to the table.  He was young and rather burly, dressed in non-descript street-clothes, and appeared to be examining the floor between his feet with singular concentration.  Kurt thought he looked vaguely familiar, but discarded the idea and breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that none of them were paying the slightest attention to their captives.

            Just past the seated man, he could make out the edge of what appeared to be a canvas partition of some kind, separating this area from the rest of the plane.  The obvious - and demoralizing - conclusion was that there was more space - and more people - beyond it.  Without moving his head, he looked as far in the other direction as he could see, just far enough to make out the leading edge of another steel gurney about two feet past the foot of Jean's 'bed', on which was something that could only be the top of Scott's head.

            Taking a deep breath and suppressing a fresh surge of panic, he risked turning his head quickly to the other side, praying fervently as he did so that there were no other watchers on that side of the 'room'.  It was fortunate that there weren't, because once his eyes fell on Kitty's slight form strapped to the table next to him he didn't think he could have pulled them away to save his life - at least they'd left her clothes on as well.  He could feel his face twist into a snarl of rage, and his tail lash angrily where it hung down beside the table, but he couldn't seem to stop either response.  Not for the moment anyway.

            _If they've hurt her...if **anyone** has harmed her...._

            He forced his breathing back to normal and his eyes to scan the rest of that side of the 'room'.  Nothing but another exam table - empty - past the foot of Kitty's and some more jumpseats bolted to the plane's curving metal wall.  He turned his attention warily back to his captors, relieved to find them still ignoring him and his companions.  Hopefully he'd get the opportunity to make them regret that oversight.  

            Keeping a wary eye on the three men at all times, he brought his tail up to fiddle with the leather straps wrapped awkwardly around his hocks.  They were simply buckled, not locked, and it had obviously never occurred to these men that one of their captives might try to escape.  Even without looking, it was only a moment's work for him to unfasten the straps and free his legs - it was no different than undoing a belt, really.  He didn't even bother with undoing the straps on his wrists.  His fingers might be large, but his hand was remarkably flexible and it was no problem to simply contort his hands and slide them out of their bindings.  

            It had taken him less than a minute, during which time the two...scientists... doctors...whatever they were...had remained fixed on the object they were studying and the other man had continued to simply stare at the floor.  It took only a moment's thought to identify the seated man as the greatest threat.  He had no apparent purpose here other than to provide security - Kurt almost snorted at that thought - and he was considerably larger and more fit than the other two.  He'd have to take him first, then move quickly before the other men could sound an alert.

            He briefly considered teleporting - that would give him the greatest possible element of surprise - but reconsidered when his head throbbed painfully at just the thought.  Surprise wouldn't do him any good if his only method of attack was to puke on his target and collapse in his lap.  He only had six feet to cover, after all, he should be on the man before he had any clue what was happening.

            He pulled his knees carefully up, planting his feet on the table as he turned slightly to get a grip on its edge.  A quick, deep breath and then he was rolling to his feet and launching himself silently across Jean's still form at the seated man.  He'd been right, the guy didn't have a clue what hit him.  

            He didn't even look up until one-hundred and forty pounds of pissed off, naked teenager landed in his lap, and by then it was too late.  Kurt's fist connected solidly with his wind-pipe just as he began to raise something he'd held on his knee.  The man's eyes went wide in surprise and pain, and then closed as Kurt belted him hard across the jaw, reflexively seizing the weapon that fell from the man's limp fingers.

            He was on auto-pilot now, months of hard training with the Wolverine taking over as he turned on the other two men, who were only just shifting to face him.  He bared his fangs in silent a snarl and watched the color drain from both their faces as they looked at him, and knew he was a terrifying sight.  For possibly the first time in his life that knowledge brought him satisfaction, rather than pain.  

            Without a sound he lashed out with the gun in his hand, slamming the butt first into the side of the closer man's face.  There was a sickening crunch of breaking bone and the tall, paunchy scientist dropped like a limp rag, blood leaking from the wound.  

            The smaller man reached for a console on the table next to him, a radio perhaps, but he never even got close to it as Kurt's tail snaked out and wrapped around his throat, jerking him roughly forward.   Between panic and rage it took almost more effort than he could manage to resist the urge to snap the man's scrawny little neck but his determination not to kill, ever, won out and he simply pistol-whipped this man much as he had the first, letting his tail's grip loose and dropping him to the floor in a heap.  

            He stood over the fallen men, panting and fighting vertigo, for perhaps the space of ten heartbeats before turning back to where the first man slumped, unconscious, in his seat.  He was burbling loudly through his damaged windpipe, but didn't appear to be in immediate danger of suffocating.  Kurt doubted there was any chance he'd be any further trouble.  The other two, however, could conceivably wake, and he couldn't risk having enemies at his back as he dealt with whatever might be beyond that partition.  

            Working quickly, in constant fear that someone would come to check on them, he heaved the two scientists onto exam tables and strapped them securely in place with the leather restraints.  That done, he quickly checked his team-mates, both for signs of life and for any chance that they might be jostled into consciousness - any help would be welcome at this point.  They all seemed unharmed, but showed no signs of rousing despite the rather rough shaking he treated them to after he unbuckled their restraints. 

            He'd come to Kitty last and now, as he gave up on waking her, he pushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, letting his fingers trail lightly down her cheek for the briefest moment.  He didn't even feel the tear that slid down his cheek as he bent and brushed a light kiss across her pale cheek before turning away, running the fingers of his right hand absently across a small, shaved patch on the back of his left hand.

            A quick search of the curtained area revealed nothing of any particular use.  The pistol he'd taken from the first man - a single shot tranquilizer - was the only weapon, and even finding his uniform did him no good as they'd obviously cut it off him.  

            He discarded the idea of using his watch, as there was no image programmed into it that was likely to be half so shocking as the sight of a naked blue-furred demon charging out of the darkness, and he expected he'd need every advantage he could get.  Hefting the pistol, he turned resolutely toward the canvas partition.  It was time to see just what was on the other side.

            A quick look was all he needed to know he was **so** screwed.  He let the canvas drop back and leaned against the curving side-wall of the plane, head tilted back and eyes closed as he shoved down yet another panic attack.

            "Fick mich!" he muttered vehemently under his breath.  There were at least a dozen men out there, probably more like fifteen.  They were all in street clothes, but something about them, to a man, fairly screamed 'soldier'.  He hadn't dared take the time for a detailed examination, but he was certain that at least _some_ of them were armed - hopefully with tranquilizer guns, but he couldn't afford to bet his life and his friends' freedom on that assumption.

            Most of them were in jumpseats on the left side of the plane, he'd only seen three men - probably the officers - seated on the other side.  The way the seats lined the sides of the plane, with the occupants facing each other across the center, severely limited his chances of actually taking them by surprise. In fact, he was damned lucky that no one had seen him peering out at them - there was only about six feet between the end of the partition and the first occupied seat.

            _Verdammt__ noch mal.__  Being scared shitless is already getting old!_

            He tried to imagine what strategy Cyclops or Wolverine might employ under the circumstances, but kept drawing a blank.  He didn't think he was up to teleporting yet, so it would be all up to speed and the tactical advantage of surprise.  Right about now, he'd would pay good money for any kind of obstacles to clutter up all that empty space in the center of the plane's cargo bay.  With nothing to dodge or hide behind the odds of being overwhelmed by sheer weight of numbers was daunting - assuming someone didn't just end the whole thing with a lucky shot.  

            Kurt shifted the tranq pistol to his tail - his fingers were much too thick to fit past the trigger guard, but the spade of his tail was slender and flexible enough to serve.  Then, after murmuring a quick, heartfelt prayer to St. Jude, the Patron Saint of desperate situations, he twitched the canvas aside, just in time to stare into the shocked brown eyes of a man not much older than himself.  Relief for the man whose windpipe he'd crushed, some rational, detached portion of his brain supplied, while the part in charge of keeping body and soul together reached out and grabbed the startled man by the throat before he could make a sound.  With a convulsive heave, Kurt lifted him right off his feet then turned and, with a sharp jerk, slammed him into the metal wall.

            His head connected first with a meaty thud and, as his eyes rolled back in his head, Kurt released him to slide limply to the floor, grabbing another tranq pistol from him as he fell.  He may not be able to fire the damn thing, but it still made a better weapon than his bare fists.

            The whole sequence had taken no more than ten seconds, but he knew it was too much to hope that it had gone unnoticed and, looking up, he saw that he was right.  Everyone was scrambling out of their seat, all eyes on him, and one of the men on the right was shouting orders that he could barely make out over the drone of the props.  'Bring it down alive' and 'don't kill it' seemed to figure prominently.  That, at least, was a relief.  

            The closest man was up already, and no more than five feet away.  Without hesitation Kurt brought up his tail and, using the spaded tip like a third hand, fired the tranq pistol point-blank into the man's face.  He didn't even pause to register the  agonized scream as his target collapsed to his knees, a dart blooming in his right eye.  There was no time, as his next two adversaries were closing fast.  

            He sidestepped to the outside of the first, heedful of Wolverine's admonition to never get caught between two enemies, and then almost stumbled as a dart whistled through the space he'd just vacated.  He recovered quickly, kicking himself for being distracted, and lashed out with a cupped palm directly to his target's ear.  He was rewarded by a howl of anguish as the man dropped, his equilibrium shattered and blood pouring from his ruptured eardrum as his comrade awkwardly dodged his body to come at Kurt.  A quick kick to the side of the knee had him buckling and a vicious backhand with the pistol butt put one more enemy down for the count.

            From there, though, things degenerated quickly into screaming chaos as Kurt dodged, ducked, leapt and wove, trying always to keep from being cornered or surrounded as the remaining dozen plus men came at him from all sides.  He couldn't get enough breathing room to switch the loaded gun for the spent one in his tail, and so was reduced to using both weapons to simply pistol whip anyone who came within range.  The sheer surprise of dealing with an opponent who moved as easily on the ceiling as on the floor and who could attack with a tail gave him a certain advantage in the beginning, but that rapidly dissipated as his adversaries adapted to his unique fighting style.  

            It was only his constant motion and his ability to use his enemies as human shields which kept him from going down under a hail of tranquilizer darts.  Despite the lack of barriers, he managed to never provide a clear shot for long enough to be a target.  After four darts missed - and one of them ended up in his current opponent's chest - the officer screamed at them to stop shooting and to use their weapons as bludgeons instead.

            In the end, he realized that the only reason he had lasted so long was his enemies' unwillingness to risk causing him serious injury - a fact that was almost as frightening as it was useful.  He was running out of energy and had taken down no more than seven of his opponents.  Not counting the three from earlier that left at least eight more facing him.  It was only a matter of time - and how many he could take with him - before he was overwhelmed.  If he'd been able to bring himself to actually kill any of them, he might have done better, but despite his desperation, he couldn't willingly take a life.  

            He was tiring rapidly and he knew it was hopeless to fight any more - he couldn't win - but, hopeless or not, he wouldn't, couldn't, stop fighting.  As he and St. Jude both knew only too well, sometimes the lost causes were the ones most worth fighting for.

            He spun desperately away from another attack but couldn't avoid the hand that lashed out and seized him by the wrist.  With a quick twist of his arm he broke free and then grabbed the offending appendage in both hands _tearing_ brutally in opposite directions.  He was already flipping up to the curved ceiling, nine feet above, as his victim collapsed to the floor, cradling the mangled remains of his hand.  Only seven more to go...  _Ich__ werde stark kaputt!_

            "God fucking damn it!"

            Captain Edward Thomas Greene was thoroughly and completely pissed off.  Everything had been going according to plan.  Not a single hitch or setback.  After _months_ of fruitless watching and waiting, they had finally captured the freak, plus grabbed three more of the mutant scum as pure gravy.  All without incident and it had happened under _his_ command.

            And now...his face twisted in rage as he watched the god-damned mutant freak leaping and twisting among his men almost as though it were some kind of dance - a very macabre dance that left a trail of twisted and bleeding bodies in his wake.  Fifteen grown men, trained _soldiers_ for Christ's sake, and this scrawny teenager had incapacitated - maybe even killed - at least five of them in less than two minutes. 

            He knew it was only a matter of time before they took the thing down.  They had it vastly outnumbered and it was obviously tiring.  But the casualties it was inflicting were un-fucking-acceptable.  Hell, it was unacceptable that it was even _awake_, forget the fact that it was eating his supposedly 'crack' troops alive.

            _Fuck_! 

            Where the hell did that mousy little shit get off calling himself a mutant 'expert' when he couldn't even manage to keep this one unconscious for fourteen fucking hours?  If the freak hadn't killed the arrogant little bastard already, Greene just might take care of the oversight when this mess had been cleaned up.

            Greene bit off another colorful curse as the thing leapt and...twisted...in mid-air, coming to rest with obscene ease on the...ceiling?  He was going to have Meier's ass as a sling for this.  He was supposed to have collared the fucking thing!  It shouldn't be able to use _any_ of its powers.  Shit!  What if it started teleporting, they'd be completely screwed.

            He narrowed his eyes at the thing, taking a good look at it for the first time as it scuttled across the ceiling like some obscene, hairy blue spider.  What the hell?  It _was_ collared!  He was _sure_ he caught the glint of brushed steal at its throat before it flipped down and flattened another one of his men.  

            _Wait a fucking minute.  The collar!_

            "Sergeant!  Here!  Now!" he bellowed to be heard over both the noise of conflict and the drone of the turbo-props.

            "Sir!"  Masters materialized at his side, leaving, for the moment, his efforts to harangue his charges into capturing the blue freak.  

            "Get your ass in there," he jerked his head at the canvas partition, "and find the control console for that freak's collar, then take it **down**.  NOW!" 

            "Sir!" was the man's only response as he turned sharply and headed past the combatants at a run.  

            He disappeared behind the curtain in a matter of moments and Greene turned back to the hash his men were making of trapping the animal.  He'd caught the faint hint of surprise and shock in Masters' eyes before he'd turned, though.  The look that clearly said his officer should have remembered this vital detail _before_ half the men under his command were bleeding wrecks on the cargo bay floor.  Greene snarled silently as another of his men went down at the freak's misshapen hands, screaming and clutching at the bleeding wreckage where the thing had ripped his hand nearly in half, right down the middle.  Masters better find that console and take the fucking animal down _fast_.

            It had flipped back up to the ceiling after its last close call, and was maneuvering its way into position for another attack when it stopped, its hideous glowing eyes going wide in shock before clutching spasmodically at its throat and dropping to the floor in a twitching heap - all without ever making a sound.  

            Greene chuckled in grim satisfaction at the sight then watched, irritated, as the seven men left standing cautiously approached the thing, obviously worried that it was a trap of some sort.  With a snort of annoyance he strode over to where the thing lay, pushing his way past winded, dazed men, to stand next to the creature.  Its eyes were open and it was still twitching slightly as he pulled back one booted foot and landed a kick squarely in its ribs.  There was no response other than a faint, pained, widening of its freakish eyes.

            He took a step back and cast his gaze around the circle of men.  "Just don't do it any...permanent...damage," he informed them, his voice cold and his face twisting in a sneer as he looked back down at the thing.  After what they'd just been put through, they needed a little stress relief.  What better way to release tension than to exact revenge for the comrades the thing had injured, maybe maimed?  

            He turned away as the first man stepped forward and delivered a swift kick to the animal's thigh.  He wasn't worried that they'd break it; adrenalin rush or no, every man here knew all too well that the creature was infinitely more valuable to their commanding officers alive than they were.  Just a little harmless venting, that's all they'd indulge in.  A few moments, no more, then he'd have Masters organize them to care for the wounded.  Just a few minutes to give the freak good reason to remember just why it _never_ wanted to fuck with them again.

*************************

Durch die Eier des Teufels! - By the devil's balls! Lit. By the balls of the devil!

Fich mich - fuck me

Verdammt noch mal - damn it all

"Ich werde _stark_ kaputt - I'm so fucked.  Lit. I will be [imminently; about to be] strongly fucked up.


	23. Fumbling in the Dark

            Just imagine a disclaimer here, okay?  I don't think anyone's operating under the delusion that I actually own anything here but the OCs - and really, they're such assholes I don't  want them much anyway.

            Okay folks, here's chapter 23.  Sorry for the ridiculously long wait - I've been busy and my muse has been on vacation.  I'll try not to take so long in future...especially for such a relatively short chapter.  

            Thanks so much for all the reviews on the last chapter, you guys are wonderful.  Knowing people are reading and enjoying is the biggest inspiration to keep writing this monster.  (Kind of scary to think how long updates might take if I **wasn't** getting reviews, isn't it?)  Also, many thanks to my wonderful beta, Sue Penkivech - and you should be grateful to her too, since she convinced me to just stop here and post this as a chapter rather than moving right on to the next bit and possibly taking another 2-3 weeks to get it up.  What can I say, I'm busy and slow...it's a bad combination.

            One other thing, I'm posting a link in my profile to one of my other fics, not simply as shameless self-promotion (though that works too), but because I think some things in this and future chapters will make a lot more sense if you've read it.  It was actually part of the inspiration for Playing with Fire in the first place and is a re-written version of my fic Winzeldorf.  The original is at ffn, but I haven't posted the new version there and that's the one you need for background.  So, if you're interested, check out the link to _Invictus_ in my profile.  

            Anyway, that's enough of that, on to the fic.

FUMBLING IN THE DARK

            Ororo glanced up from the budget projections spread on the gleaming mahogany desk between them, and let her gaze shift to the scene outside the Professor's window.  She smiled indulgently at the sight of the enthusiastic, and rather one-sided, soccer game taking place on the lawn.  Young Mr. DaCosta seemed to be taking great pleasure in playing circles around both his opponents and his own team-mates.

            "It was an excellent idea, Charles, giving the students this free time.  It is good to see them behaving like children again - at least for a while."

            She turned her attention to Charles just in time to catch an odd look as it flashed across his usually imperturbable features.  It was gone almost before she had time to register it, though, and he smiled warmly as he too looked out to where the game had now been abandoned for the moment.  Instead, most of the former players looked on with varying degrees of enthusiasm as Roberto chased a laughing Bobby Drake across the lawn, dodging ice patches and the occasional random snowball, all the while keeping up a fluent stream of abuse in both Portuguese and Spanish.

            He shook his head slightly, an amused smile twitching at the corners of his lips, before turning his attention back to Ororo and the books between them.  "Yes," he murmured as he flipped a page almost absently.  "Yes, it is good to see them just play.  Good for them to remember that they are still children and to act accordingly."

            They worked quietly for some time longer - long enough for the game to resume outside the window, neither Bobby nor Roberto notably the worse for wear - and were just preparing to end their weekly budget session, when the shrill ringing of the Professor's private line interrupted their discussion of the final figures for the reconstruction of the Danger Room.

            "Pardon me."  His voice was smooth and controlled as usual, but the slight quirking of his eyebrows betrayed his surprise quite clearly to one who knew to look.

            "Of course, Charles."  

            "Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters, Charles Xavier speaking."  Cocking his head to one side, he listened attentively to the voice on the other end of the line.

            Ororo fixed her eyes firmly on the invoices they had been discussing, but her attention was primarily focused on the Professor's voice.  Very few people possessed this number to begin with, and those who did were extremely unlikely to call on a Saturday afternoon unless there were an emergency of some sort.  The fact that he had not asked her to leave indicated to Ororo that Charles would likely want her opinion on whatever was discussed after he hung up.

            It was possible, though unlikely, that it was one of his political contacts, calling with advance warning of pending anti-mutant legislation.  The only other possibility that came immediately to mind was that the children had managed to find or create some kind of trouble and were calling for a bail-out.

            _Dear Goddess, can't they please just keep out of trouble for one full day?  That doesn't seem so much to ask_.

            "No, not at all Lorraine."  Ororo looked up at the unfamiliar name and caught the sudden tenseness in his shoulders.  "How can I help you?"

            He was silent for a moment and this time Ororo could vaguely make out a woman's smooth, cultured voice speaking very slowly and precisely.  At least it wasn't the children calling, but the growing concern on his face made her wonder just what this strange woman **could** be calling about.

            "They didn't arrive?" he finally asked.  His voice held nothing more than polite concern, completely at odds with his facial expression and body language.

            _Ororo__, please use the main line to call Jean and Kurt's cell phones_.  Years of familiarity prevented her from jumping in surprise at his voice in her mind.  _They missed their __2:00__ appointment and the dealer was unable to reach them._  

            He was speaking into the phone again, but she was no longer listening as her brain registered the import of his words.  _Henry and Logan will be here momentarily_, he added, glancing significantly at the phone.

            _Immediately Charles_, she responded.  Moving to the other end of the large desk she picked up the indicated receiver and dialed Jean's number from memory.  She could not imagine any of the children failing him when he had entrusted them with this responsibility, but especially not Scott or Jean.  Even if it had been more an excuse to provide them with an outing than anything else, she knew that those two would take it with the utmost seriousness.

            She caught disjointed bits of his continuing conversation as she listened to Jean's phone roll immediately over to voice mail - turned off or the battery was dead.  Henry and Logan came in while she was trying Kurt's number, which yielded the same result.  By the time she'd left a demand on both teens' voice-mails that they call back the **second** they received her message, Charles had hung up the phone and was addressing Logan.  Hank, meanwhile, was thumbing rapidly through the rolodex on the corner of the desk before placing a call of his own.  

            "None of the protesters at the gates have any memory of them beyond their departure this morning, Logan."  The concern was gone from his face and voice, replaced by grim determination as he briefed the other man.  "If anything **has** happened to them, then no one there appears to have been involved."

            "No one **there** Chuck - don't mean that the fuckin' FOH ain't involved," the surly Canuck grunted in response.

            "Logan, we currently have no evidence that **anything** has happened to them.  It is possible that there is a harmless - though **not** necessarily reasonable - explanation for their failure to arrive for their appointment and for their failure to answer their phones."  He glanced at Ororo and she knew that he was aware of the outcome of her calls.  He didn't pause as Logan raised an eyebrow in clear disbelief.

            "Nonetheless, I would like you to begin tracing their route.  Once Henry has ascertained whether they made any of their other appointments I will contact you with the information."

            Ororo cast a glance in Hank's direction, the phone like a toy in his enormous, paw-like hand, and listened briefly to the gentle murmur of his voice - so at odds with his appearance - before turning her attention back to Logan and Charles.

            Logan opened his mouth as if to speak, but Charles cut him off smoothly.  "I have already confirmed that none of them are in the immediate vicinity, nor can I find any sign of Jean in the New York Metropolitan area."

            Logan closed his mouth with an audible click, question obviously answered, and made for the door without another word.  Ororo watched him go, noting the tense set of his shoulders and the almost reflexive clenching of his fists at his sides as he struggled to keep his volatile temper in check.

            Charles had pulled his chair back from the desk as he spoke and now turned his attention back to her.  "I will be scanning for them in Cerebro.  They can't have gone very far in such a short amount of time."  She glanced automatically at the ornate case-clock by the door at his words.  Five twenty.  Almost eight hours since they'd left.  Over three hours since they'd missed their appointment.  Why on earth had the antiques dealer taken so long to contact them?

            She met his eyes steadily and, despite the confidence his voice projected, saw the same concern there that she harbored.  The fact was that the world was not a friendly place for mutants and she could not imagine anything innocuous that could have caused the children to abandon their schedule, turn off their cell phones and disappear from the area without a word.  

            "Charles?"  Henry's gentle voice was heavy with worry as it broke into her thoughts.  "The children did not make any of their engagements today.  They do not appear to have ever reached the city."

            Logan had just reached the gate when Chuck contacted him with the news.

            "SHIT!" he snarled as he gunned the engine on his Harley and sped past the small crowd of protesters, wishing he was going **through** the bastards instead.  He slowed down as soon as he turned the first corner however.  It wouldn't help if he went so fast that he missed something important.  If the kids had never made their first appointment, they could have disappeared at almost any point between the City and home, so he had no way to narrow the initial search area.

            He cruised down the shady, tree-lined road at just below the speed limit, glad for the lack of traffic as he visually scoured the road itself as well as both shoulders, with no real idea of what, exactly, he might be looking for.  Chuck had promised to get back to him immediately if they turned up any news.  

            Poindexter was in charge of calling all the hospitals anywhere in range of their planned route, and 'Ro was poring over all the local police reports - thank God for Kitty's little hacker heart.  Logan's own heart constricted at the thought of the Half-Pint, or any of his kids, in trouble - and he had absolutely no doubt that they were, indeed, in trouble of the first magnitude.  

            He forced a steadying breath and refocused his attention on the road as he continued on.  By now Chuck must be in Cerebro, using its power to extend his range as he scanned in an ever-widening circle for the quartets' mental signatures.  No matter what had happened, it was only a matter of time before they found them, and when they did, Logan had every intention of thoroughly ventilating whoever was responsible for their disappearance.  He tried very hard not to think of the most obvious explanation for the world's most powerful telepath's inability to locate them - a corpse doesn't have a mental signature.

            Ororo pushed a hand irritably through her hair as she scrolled once more through the local police reports, determined to find any clues they might hold.  There had been no incidents reported involving their car or individuals who bore any resemblance to them, but there had to be **some** clue somewhere, and she couldn't simply give up - not when this was currently the only way in which she could be of help.  

            After determining that none of their missing charges were in area hospitals, Hank had finally joined the other children for dinner and to supervise their evening activities.  They wanted to maintain at least an illusion of normalcy for now.  By tomorrow morning it would be impossible to conceal the quartet's absence, but for now there was no reason to panic the other children.  There was every chance they would find Scott, Jean, Kurt and Kitty whole and unharmed before then - or at least that's what she had been telling herself off and on for the last four hours.

            She returned her attention to the computer screen before her, preparing to scroll past the local traffic reports, when something caught her eye.  A small thing...or perhaps not.  Two traffic obstructions, about three miles apart, on Graymalkin.  That alone was nothing extraordinary.  However, they had occurred almost simultaneously and cleared within minutes of each other.  That was...unusual...in and of itself, but the fact that they had occurred no more than fifteen minutes after the children had left this morning....

            _Charles_?  She felt his attention shift immediately to her and opened her mind to him, offering her findings for his consideration.  _A coincidence, do you think?_

            _Unfortunately_, he answered, his mental voice somber, _that__ seems highly unlikely under the circumstances.  I will notify __Logan__ immediately_.

            Logan stood in the middle of the road, right where it led into the first sharp curve after leaving the main gate, and stared intently at the layered skid marks.  He traced their path across the center line and into the dust and gravel of the narrow shoulder – almost completely unmarked dust and gravel.  He let his eyes follow the path of the most recent marks, the sound of his boots clicking quietly on the hard surface of the road one of the few sounds to disturb the pre-dawn stillness.

            He stopped abruptly at the edge of the road, eyes fixed on the spot where the tracks simply…ended.  The marks were fresh – fresh enough that he could still smell the acrid stink of scorched rubber as well as a faint whiff of the unique stench of over-taxed brake drums.  Fresh enough that the loose gravel and dirt at the road's edge should be gouged and scored from the car's erratic progress as it skidded off the road.

            He turned and looked once more at the marks.  Hardly a month went by without someone managing to lose control and cross the line on this curve.  He probably wouldn't have given the skid-marks here a second look if 'Ro's information hadn't prompted him to walk this particular three-mile stretch of road – hell, he hadn't given them a second look when he rode through here on his way out last night.  

He wouldn't have noticed that the last set of skid marks were a perfect match for the tires he'd helped Scooter put on his little red car less than a month ago.  Wouldn't have seen that the skid hadn't been caused by the driver simply going too fast and losing control on the curve - his eyes once more traced the vivid marks across the pavement, this time focusing on the distinctive 'scallop' track left by a blown out tire.  An almost brand new tire that he had checked not an hour before the kids had left this morning…yesterday morning now.  

He growled low and deep in his chest as he stepped off the road, onto the unnaturally pristine surface of the shoulder.  His hands clenched reflexively as he stopped in the center of the small area and dropped into a crouch.  Eyes closed and nostrils flaring, he searched for any hint of what had gone on here.

Concentrating hard, he filtered out the 'normal' scents of the area and stretched his senses, searching for…what?  He didn't really know.

It took a moment, time in which he began to wonder if he was wasting his time, squatting here at the side of the road and sniffing like some kind of bizarre bloodhound.  He was about to give up when he caught it.  Shifting slightly to his left he homed in on it.  Scooter and the Elf hadn't been on the ground long – barely long enough to leave a scent that could last through the treatment this place had been given.  He growled in frustration and shifted again, low to the ground and eyes still closed, as he tried to place the faint, bitter chemical aroma that overlay everything in the vicinity.

With a snarl of frustration he surged to his feet and moved a few paces away.  His hands again flexed at his sides as he struggled against the urge to pop his claws and shred something…anything.  

"Fuck!"  Something bad had gone down here.  Four of his kid were missing and not only had he been unable to prevent it, he had no fucking idea who had done it, where they'd been taken or, perhaps most importantly, why.  "FUCK!" he snarled again, and this time he **did** pop his claws, letting the brief, familiar surge of pain as they sliced through the thin skin between his knuckles ground him in the here and now.

His nostrils flared again, this time in anger and frustration, as he tried to imagine what had taken place here, why he caught no hint of Half-Pint or Red anywhere, why and how the area had been so thoroughly sanitized….

The light breeze that had been playing gently through the trees and teasing at his unruly hair shifted slightly and he froze, head snapping up and around as he caught the bitter, chemical aroma that had overlain the boys' scent coming more strongly from some bushes at the shoulder's edge.  Three long strides had him standing above the source of the strange scent.

_Probably some kinda fuckin' tranq_, he speculated as he crouched down and commenced to search for the source of the smell – though it took nearly five minutes of methodically combing the area before he turned it up.  Finally, he pushed a clump of weeds aside and looked down at a small, gleaming metal fragment.  Slightly curved and apparently made of aluminum, he felt his stomach clench as it confirmed his suspicions.  It was, he was certain, a fragment from a detonated gas canister.  He had little doubt that if there was enough chemical residue clinging to the metal for Poindexter to analyze, he'd find it had contained some kind of high-powered sedative.  

Whoever had done this hadn't taken any chances – gas was a hell of a lot faster and more effective than darting a target.  They, whoever 'they' were, hadn't wanted to run the risk that their quarry would remain conscious long enough to use their powers in self-defense **or** to summon help.  

_Shit Jeannie, what did they do to you_?  

It was hard to imagine something that could take the redhead down fast enough to keep her from contacting Chuck.  Had they resorted to something more immediate and more…permanent…in dealing with her?  He shook his head sharply, banishing such thoughts and reminding himself that there was no smell of blood here.  If they'd shed blood there wasn't a damn thing they could have done to conceal the scent from him.  She was all right, they all were…they had to be.

"Fuckin' bastards!"

Who the hell were they and why had they wanted the kids?  It couldn't be the FOH.  Those dickwads weren't organized or creative enough for this.  They were more likely to just off the kids and run than to go through all this elaborate shit just to get their hands on a few 'mutie scum' without anyone finding out about it.

This was more like something Weapon X might have pulled in its heyday, but Weapon X had been closed down over a decade ago; its operatives dispersed and its research abandoned…or so he'd been told.

Logan didn't even realize that he'd popped his claws until he found them buried up to the knuckles in a convenient tree, a menacing growl echoing through his chest.  With considerable effort, he forced them to retract, feeling them slide past muscle, tendon and bone as they settled back into their housings in his forearms.  He didn't even bother trying to suppress the snarl though, just let it merge and blend with the stream of invective he let loose as he stalked back to his bike, two and a half miles down the road.

By the time he pulled his Harley to a stop at the shoulder five minutes later, the initial heat of his anger had faded, replaced by a cold determination to find his kids – and fuck Chuck and 'Ro for sucking him into this, for making him **care** about the little shits – and take full payment out of the miserable hides of the sick fucks responsible for their disappearance.

He extracted a small plastic baggie from one of his saddle bags and loped back to where he'd left the metal fragment untouched.  Wouldn't do to contaminate it any more than had already happened.  Inverting the bag around his hand like a glove, he carefully lifted the small, innocuous-looking bit of aluminum and held it before his eyes, wondering what, if anything, Poindexter would be able to learn from it – and stopped, face twisting in consternation as he picked up a new, yet somehow familiar, scent on it.  He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, ignoring the irritating chemical burn of whatever the canister had held, and concentrated on the faint, musky/oily scent that lingered beneath it.

Where…when…had he smelled he man who'd last held this before?  Who the fuck was it?  He let his mind wander, skimming rapidly and randomly through associations, looking for a trigger that would let him identify the scent.

_The sharp, crisp scents of fall in the woods…damp leaves and fresh pine…the acrid stench of a fire not long extinguished…Blood…Pain…Rage…Fear….  A pair of blue eyes, wide with terror and staring at him across a few short yards of woodland, before rolling back as their owner collapsed bonelessly in the leaf-litter of a German forest, the scent of bodily effluvia rising sharply in the air, almost gagging him_. 

His eyes snapped open at the memory, a savage snarl ripping through him as his right-hand claws snapped out again, driving into the same hapless tree.

_Chuck?  You there?_  It was an effort to form words past the red rage pulsing through his veins, even mentally, but he forced himself to reach out with his mind, projecting in the way Chuck had drilled into all of them.

_I am here, Wolverine.  What have you found?_  He could 'feel' the psychic wince at the other end of the link as Chuck was buffeted by the force of his emotions and made an effort to rein in his temper.

_Ya__ ain't gonna like it, Chuck – I sure as shit don't_!

_I don't expect to 'like' **anything** to do with the current situation, old friend_, came the response.  His mental touch was light and unobtrusive, but Logan could still feel the resignation and pain in his 'words'.

_Got a scent on one of the fuckheads that took the kids – someone we've 'met' before_.  He looked back down at the metal fragment still clutched in his left hand as he 'spoke'.  _Remember Winzeldorf_?  With that he opened his mind to his friend and mentor and sent him the details of what he'd found…and what he thought it meant.

He felt a quick surge of shock and dismay travel down the link and then suddenly nothing.  He knew Chuck must be clamping down on his shields, struggling for calm before continuing this 'conversation.'  

He was proven right a moment later when the familiar voice 'spoke' again – calm once more.  _Then they were, indeed, after Kurt.  I feared as much at the time…_  His mental voice trailed off into momentary silence and Logan could almost hear the wheels turning in the other man's mind as he ran through the possibilities this presented – none of them good.

_Are you through there, Wolverine?  Or are there other things you wish to explore?_

_I want to search the forest 'round here before I come back.  I think they might've had a sniper out here somewhere and if I can find his nest I might be able to find some other clues.  Shouldn't take more'n another hour or two._

_As you wish Wolverine.__  I will send Storm to collect the metal fragment then - I would like Henry to begin analyzing it as soon as possible.  Let me know if you find anything else._

_Will do Chuck._  He paused, wondering if he really wanted the answer to this question before he continued.  _How far…?_  but he was cut off before he even had a chance to finish.

_I have, thus far, searched the entire Eastern Seaboard, including across the border into __Canada__.  There is no sign of them anywhere in that area_.  The mental voice was tight now, with frustration and worry.

_They're not dead Chuck.  No one would've gone to this amount of trouble just to kill 'em, and there's no scent of blood in the area.  Whatever's happened, they're alive and we're gonna find 'em_, he asserted with more confidence and optimism than he felt.  It wasn't that he thought they might actually be dead, it was that he was beginning to fear that they might almost be better off if they were.

He let his head drop with a barely suppressed groan of exhaustion.  He didn't need to check the numbers flashing on the digital display before him to know that it was closer to dawn than to midnight - dawn of the second day since they'd disappeared.  

Charles reached wearily up and removed the Cerebro helmet from his aching head, grimacing in distaste at the sweat-soaked slickness of its lining.  Rubbing his temples, he let his bleary eyes drift up to the blank screen which seemed to mock his inability to find them.  They were his responsibility - his **children** - and he had failed them...lost them....  They were gone and he didn't have any idea who had them or where they'd been taken. 

_The most powerful telepath in the world and yet, when four of my students were abducted virtually beneath my nose I had no clue_.

He screwed his eyes shut against the wave of self-recrimination that rose at the thought and, hand shaking, dragged an already sweat-damp handkerchief across his glistening forehead.

_No time for self-pity or self-flagellation.  It accomplishes nothing_.  Drawing a shuddering breath, he finally checked the clock's blinking digital display - 4:53a.m., Monday morning.  A scarce three hours before he would have to call the school and relay  a carefully constructed lie justifying the absence of all of his students for the foreseeable future.  Under the circumstances, it had been decided that it was best to keep all of the children confined to the grounds.  He was not about to risk any of the others when he had just lost four of his charges to a nameless and faceless adversary.

It was scant consolation to believe that, whatever had happened, they were still alive.  An enemy that had, according to the limited evidence available, been observing them for months, obviously had much more elaborate plans in mind than mere murder - and his blood ran cold at the thought.  Logan's rising fear that a re-constituted Weapon X might be involved in some way was chilling.

Hands somewhat steadier for a few minutes of rest, Charles replaced the Cerebro helmet and prepared to resume his search.  He knew he should probably heed his own advice and rest as Henry and Ororo were doing.  However, he couldn't seem to escape the conviction that 'just a few more minutes' of searching would finally yield results - even though it had now been almost thirty-four hours since his search began.  Thirty-four hours filled with endless repetitions of that phrase - 'just a few more minutes.'  Thirty-four hours during which he had slept not at all and eaten only when food had been placed before him.  During which he had only left the Cerebro chamber to hear Logan's report and to confer with the others on their plan of action...as well as to deal with 'necessities.'  

Perhaps he would finally be able to rest when he knew the search was being carried on by others...perhaps...  Horrifying as the implications were, it had been decided late last night that Henry and Logan might have uniquely useful connections to aid in their search.  

First thing this morning, Henry would begin contacting his many friends and acquaintances in the scientific community, both professional and academic.  He would be looking for information on any individuals with an extreme or...unhealthy...interest in mutants or mutant genetics.  Logan, on the other hand, planned to use his contacts with S.H.I.E.L.D. - specifically its Director, Nick Fury - to explore the possibility that some incarnation of the Weapon X program might be in operation again.  The possibilities raised by either line of inquiry were...difficult to contemplate.

Pushing the memory of failure away, Charles stretched out his awareness.  Across the vast emptiness of the Atlantic, until he came to the mental din of the British Isles and, beyond them, Europe.  He had exhausted the possibilities in North America and, as they had apparently encountered at least one member of this phantom organization less than a year ago in Germany, Europe seemed the next logical step.  

Two more hours...just two more hours...and then he'd rest.

*********************************************

Sorry for the distinct lack of Kurt-ness here, he'll be back in the next chapter...kind of.  The angst will certainly be back anyway, and then some.  Also, if you made it this far please review - and feel free to be as critical as you want.  I'm a big girl, I can take it.  


	24. Mad Scientist at Work Beware

Insert standard disclaimer here.  Thanks to all of you who've been reading and reviewing - and to all of you who are just reading.  Be warned - remember how I said things would get worse before they got better?  Well, they're getting worse.

Thanks to my beta, Sue Penkivech - oh and I blame her for the title of this chapter since it was her idea.  But hey, this thing could use a little comic relief right now and this is all it's likely to get for quite a while.

CHAPTER 24

            Sergeant Eli Masters was **not** a happy man.  Yeah, they'd managed to take down the freak, but not before it took out nine of **his** men - one of whom would never be getting up again.  He finished tightening the straps on the thing's...hocks...with a particularly vicious jerk, satisfying himself that it wasn't going anywhere no matter what, then looked up as Williams came over at a trot.  

            "Sergeant, every time we try to move Newcombe he stops breathing.  What should we do?"

            The kid looked and sounded shell-shocked and was carefully keeping his sergeant between himself and the freak - not that Masters could really blame him.  Not after watching that thing go through the squad like some demon straight from hell - but it still irritated him to see it.  He forced himself to unclench his jaw and respond in his normal, clipped bark.

            "Then don't bloody move him!  How the hell hard is that to figure out?"

            "Yes Sergeant!  Sorry Sergeant!" the boy responded, voice quavering and face pale as he continued to eye the unconscious freak nervously.  

            "Now strap him back in and then get out there and help the Captain with the other casualties!"  Kid'd be no help dealing with the prisoners anyway.  He was obviously too damned scared of the freak to be of any use here, so he might as well be of some use to someone.  Masters' assessment was confirmed by the speed with which the boy made his escape.  Newcombe was securely strapped in in record time and Williams was on the other side of the partition hardly a heartbeat later, leaving Masters with only four of the thirteen men still on their feet after the thing's rampage.  Thirteen out of an original twenty - and two of them walking wounded - but that should be sufficient.

            "Escobar!" he barked to the man who'd helped him carry the thing back to its table.  "Get over to the control panel for those collars.  If one of the freaks so much as twitches, hit the switch."

            "Yes, Sergeant!"  The man's response was immediate and Masters watched as he moved with brisk efficiency - but no hint of undue haste - to his assigned post.  He could be relied on in a crunch.

            "Liu!  Edwards!  Rodriguez!  Keep an eye on the freaks and your weapons at the ready.  One of 'em moves, tranq it.  Don't worry about whether or not Escobar gets it with the collar."  He pointed at their respective targets as he spoke - giving Liu, as the best shot, both of the females to watch, at least for the moment.  

            "Yes Sergeant!"  Three voices rang out almost simultaneously and without hesitation, and he nodded in satisfaction at the prompt response.

            "Sergeant?"  

            He turned his attention to where Escobar stood, grim-faced and ready, by the control panel for the freaks' restraint collars.

            "Which switch is for which collar?" the man asked.

            "Don't know.  Don't care," he replied, making no effort to mask the anger in his voice.  "One of 'em moves, shock 'em all.  It won't kill 'em."

            "Yes Sergeant!"  And Escobar's mouth twitched into a mirthless grin.

            With a snarl, Masters reached out and plucked the tranq dart from the blue demon's shoulder before turning his attention to the unconscious scientists on the two 'extra' tables.  It had, he reflected, taken all his self-control not to put the dart in the thing's face - like it had done to Wakefield.  Only the knowledge that its life was more important to the brass than his own and all his men's put together had kept the damn thing alive when he'd found out it had killed one his men.  He suspected that it probably wouldn't have fared nearly so well when the men had worked it over if they'd realized at the time that Wakefield was dead.  Just as well, too, because it would have been as much as their lives were worth had one of them gone too far and damaged it beyond usefulness or killed it.  As it was, he doubted that most of what they'd done to it would even be visible through its dark skin and pelt. 

            As he turned towards the two incapacitated scientists, still senseless and strapped to the spare exam tables, Masters let his eyes drift briefly to where Newcombe sat.  Still slumped in the jumpseat Masters had found him in, the boy's breath was bubbling laboriously though his almost crushed windpipe - loudly enough to be heard even over the thrum of the props - and his face was pale and haggard.  At least he was unconscious.  Masters spared a moment to wonder bitterly if he would be joining Wakefield under a blanket in the main compartment before the flight was over.  God damned animal had a lot to answer for.

            Shaking his head to clear it of the lingering fog of adrenaline-induced rage, he shifted his attention to the task at hand.  He knew Greene had put him in charge of the...acquisitions...while he dealt with the casualties for a reason - so that he could place blame if the thing died.  Masters intended to make sure that didn't happen.  Both because he planned to keep his skin intact and because he was pretty damned sure that whatever the brass and the scientists had in store for the thing would be a hell of a lot worse than the quick escape of death.  That thought alone was bringing him considerable satisfaction.

            His grim chuckle was lost in the thunder of the engines as he turned to the two unconscious scientists and quickly assessed their injuries.  Making a decision, he stepped to Meier's side and gave the small man a rough shake, and to hell with his head wound.  When that produced no more than a muffled groan, he snapped the canteen from his belt and, after unscrewing the cap, dribbled a thin stream of water into the unconscious man's face.  The groan turned into a slurred protest and Meier's eyelids fluttered erratically before finally settling upon being open - barely and fixing blearily on Masters' face.

            "Wahuuut...?" Meier mumbled almost incoherently before his eyes abruptly widened in panic and he tried, unsuccessfully, to lever himself up into a sitting position, the table's restraints thwarting his feeble efforts.  "The demon!  It...ahhhh..."  He collapsed with a groan, eyes clenched against pain that Masters could easily imagine given the ugly bruise purpling almost the entire left side of the man's face.

            "We've got it restrained again," he informed the panicked scientist brusquely when he finally stopped moaning and slit his eyes open again.  "Now I need to know how to keep it - and the other three - out for the rest of the trip.  **Without** any more surprises - I don't have any more men to spare, **Doctor**."

            Meier made as if to nod in understanding but stopped with a groan.  At least the man was coherent enough to understand him, hopefully he was also articulate enough to give him the information he needed.

            "The...sedatives...are in...the refrig...eration unit...beneath...the...counter..." he almost whispered, and Masters strained to hear him over the drone of the engines.  "The...doses...are...in pre-measured...syringes...intra...muscular...injection is...sufficient...."

            Masters nodded in satisfaction and turned away, that was all he needed to know.  He wanted the thing drugged to the gills before anything else happened.  Maybe an extra dose for the other three wouldn't be a bad idea while he was at it either - just in case.

            "Wait!"  Masters turned automatically, both irritated and surprised by the sudden strength in the little man's voice as well as the tone of command.

            "Don't increase its dose," Meier ordered as soon as their eyes met.

            "What the hell do you **mean** don't increase its dose, you little fuckhead!"  Masters almost exploded at the sheer idiocy of the statement.  "The dose you fucking gave it was supposed to keep it out for **at least** four hours, and two fucking hours later it was going through my men like something straight from the pits of hell!"

            He made as if to turn on his heel and storm away, but was stopped again as Meier snapped out, "You'll kill it!"  He looked into the little man's fevered, oddly dilated eyes and let his disbelief show.

            "You will," Meier insisted, his voice weakening now, and his eyelids beginning to flutter.  "Drug it...more often...don't...increase...the dose....  If you...O.D. it...it might...die...and you won't...outlive it...by long...."

            Masters stared at the little man in consternation, his last words ringing in his ears with a force completely out of proportion to the strained whisper with which they'd been delivered.

            "Shit," he muttered under his breath as it became clear that Meier had expended what reserves he had and was well and truly down for the count now.  "Shit, shit, FUCK."

            He turned on his heel now, still snarling in irritation, and went to find the drugs in question.  Just what he needed - a tightrope to walk between killing it and it killing more of them.  _Shit. Shit.  Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!  God-damned freakin' mutie filth!_ 

*******************************************

            There were less than two hours left before they reached their destination - a decommissioned military base in southeast Panama, in the smuggler and guerrilla-infested jungle east of Yaviza, not far from the Darien Gap and the Colombian border.  Twelve hours gone in a fourteen hour flight and Eli Masters was still royally pissed off.  Newcombe's labored breathing had gotten on his nerves for the first six hours after the incident, but the four hours of relative quiet since the kid had finally breathed his last had been even more nerve-wracking.  Sure, kid had been a fuck-up, but still....

            He ground his teeth in barely controlled fury as he checked his watch again.  They'd figured, through careful observation, that the freak needed to be sedated every one and three quarter hours, and he checked the clock obsessively as the time for its next dose drew near.  Just twenty more minutes to go until it was due for the next one.  He'd made sure to put the needle in the exact same spot ever time - with a vicious jab and twist for good measure.  It wasn't much, but it was all the vengeance he could exact for the time being.  The other three seemed fine with the four hour schedule originally planned for, and should be out until well after arrival, as they'd all been dosed less than fifteen minutes ago.

            The freak though...the freak was going to be a bit of a problem now.  No one had anticipated the need for vast quantities of extra sedative and, though some far-sighted soul _had_ actually proved a significant surplus, they had run out with the last syringe-full he'd administered to the big male.  Almost two hours to go until they reached their destination, only twenty minutes before the animal needed its next dose of sedative and not a drop left on the plane...unless you counted the large supply of tranquilizer darts in their arsenal.

            Masters smiled humorlessly as he hefted his tranq pistol, his eyes not moving from the freak's limp form as he chuckled darkly and ran a finger lovingly across the pistol's cool barrel.  It was going to pain him no end, having to shoot the thing every twenty minutes for the rest of the flight.  The only question to consider was whether he should continue hitting the freak in the same spot he'd been using for the injections...or maybe pick a new place to focus the pain.  It might be unconscious now, after all, but they were going to have to wake it up eventually, and he wanted to make sure it woke up with a little something to remember him by...for now.

*************************************

            The small room was silent save for the steady, subdued beep of the assorted monitors lining the stark metal walls.  The room's lone occupant lay silent and still, the rhythmic rise and fall of its chest the only sign of life.  The deep blue of its fur stood out dramatically against the pristine white of the sheet covering it from the waist down and its now close-cropped hair gave its narrow features a gaunt, almost emaciated look.

            With a shake of his head, Edward Havel jerked his gaze away from the one-way mirror separating his office from the exam room where his latest test subject now lay.  It had been a long two days of almost constant testing, his only assistance provided by low-level techs thanks to the very creature he now had trouble keeping his eyes off of.  How _had_ such a thing managed to survive so long?  And, more amazingly, remain hidden?  The question, like so many others about the thing, gnawed at him.  

            With a soft sigh of exasperation he returned his attention to the mountains of data he now had to correlate and make some sense of before they could bring the subject out of sedation and begin the next round of testing.  Tomorrow, he hoped.  But only if he could 'crunch' this data before then.  

            He ran a hand through his thinning hair in irritation.  This wasn't supposed to fall to him.  It was Arensen's job to make the first pass analysis of the raw data.  

            His eyes ached with the strain caused by staring at the computer screen for the last six hours as he reviewed data from PET scans, CT scans, functional and standard MRIs, hyper and hypo perfusion SPECT scans, Magnetic Resonance Spectroscopy, dye contrast and nerve conduction studies - not to mention the basics of measurements, X-rays, urinalysis, blood, tissue, fecal, even semen samples.  Everything was here.  Two days worth of constant effort assembled before him, and now he waded through it; extracting base-line information on metabolic processes, brain chemistry, physiognomy....  Comparing and contrasting it to similar data available for humans as well as the numerous mutants he had subjected to the same rigorous testing over the years.  All of them would provide invaluable data on the differences between mutants and humans and, when combined with results from the same tests conducted on the subject when conscious and again when attempting to activate its powers, would contribute immeasurably to his research on the detection, prediction, enhancement, control and, perhaps someday, creation of mutation.

            He let his gaze drift back to the strange, inhuman creature in the room beyond, eyes narrowed and lips pulled tight in an exasperated grimace.  If it hadn't brutally assaulted Meier and Arensen he wouldn't be in this situation, after all, and he would have had the staff to begin the testing sequence on at least two of the other subjects as well.  Of course, the thing had actually managed to kill two of the soldiers sent to capture and guard it, but that didn't impact his work and thus was of no concern to him.  

            _Though_, he rubbed absently at his neck as the thought occurred to him, _they probably deserved whatever it did to them, considering how spectacularly they failed to supervise it or to protect the non-combatants in their care._  

            He took a few slow, deep breaths and pushed his anger at the subject away, refocusing it where it belonged - on the bunglers who had failed to keep it under control.  After all, he couldn't really blame the creature.  Just one look was sufficient to establish that it was nothing if not a predator.  One couldn't very well blame a predator for being vicious and aggressive.  It had simply been mishandled, and that **wouldn't** happen again.

            He turned back to the bank of computers on his desk, adjusting his glasses and changing screens as he prepared a complex analysis of the creature's resting metabolism.  He had just begun to run computations when the sound of his office door sliding quietly open distracted him from his data.  .

            "I **said** I was not to be disturbed this evening," he snarled, not bothering to look at the interloper.

            "Yes, so I was told."

            Havel's eyes widened as he spun to face his 'boss', though his features were still set in aggravation at the interruption.  

            "What the hell do you want Whitmore?" he asked, only somewhat less gruffly than before.  "I have work to do here."  God, he didn't need this interruption.  You'd think, after all these years, that the man would understand how much he hated to be disturbed when he was doing work-ups on a new acquisition.

            "I'm going to be busting my ass all night as it is," he continued, "just to get this data analyzed in time to bring it 'round and start the next series of tests in the morning.  I can't **believe** the retrieval team actually let the thing attack Meier and Arensen.  Do you have any idea how much more time this all takes without competent assistants?  I should have been able to run at least two of the other three simultaneously, but no...."  He looked again through the one-way glass and his voice trailed off wearily before he stood, stretching the kinks out of his hunched shoulders and spine before adjusting the crumpled white lab coat he wore and running a hand absently over two days growth of beard.

            "I wouldn't push yourself too hard if I were you, Havel.  You'll have plenty of time to analyze your data before you put it through any more tests," Whitmore replied flatly, prompting Havel to return his attention to the other man's face.  The lines around his dark eyes seemed even more pronounced than usual and he looked...tired.  Tired and angry.

            "What is it Felix?" he asked, letting his eyes narrow as he regarded his superior.  "What do you mean I'll have 'plenty of time'?  Do you have any idea how much - "

            "I meant what I said," Whitmore interrupted.  "There will be no further testing on the creature until further notice."

            "No further testing?  What the hell do you mean by -"

            "Edward, will you shut the hell up and let me finish what I'm saying?  Then you can go back to poking at your numbers and graphs."  He hadn't raised his voice, had barely changed his tone, but something in it reminded Edward Havel exactly where his bread was buttered.

            "My apologies," he muttered grudgingly, following Whitmore's gaze back into the adjoining room.  Where the creature was no longer alone.  "Wait!  What the hell are they doing?" he growled at the sight of two techs methodically disconnecting heart and brain wave monitors, removing its IV and catheter.  He was halfway to the door without thinking and would have been through it and wreaking havoc in the room beyond were it not for the large hand that descended heavily on his shoulder, freezing him in place.

            "The schedule had to be moved up Edward," his superior informed him gruffly.  "We don't have time to piss around with tests and analyses anymore, especially not with this one."  

            There was, he realized, no arguing with that particular tone of voice.  Felix Whitmore might be a relatively low-ranking officer in the organization as a whole, but in anything to do with mutant acquisition, research or breeding - and especially within the walls of _this_ facility - he was _the_ final authority, at least to those beneath him.

            He pulled his shoulders back, resisting the urge to let them slump in irritation and defeat.  "And would you care to tell me just what has happened to essentially negate the entire purpose of this facility?" he asked, his voice cold and his face stony.  What the fuck could the man mean?  'Piss around with tests...?'  His research was the only reason he was here, the only reason this whole facility - and Whitmore's whole program - even existed.

            "The _purpose_ of this facility, you might recall, is to create tools and weapons _Doctor_," Whitmore responded, his expression equally hard.  "We have not, thus far, succeeded to the Organization's satisfaction in that mission.  Thus, our budget and staff are being _significantly_ reduced until such time as we can prove our usefulness to the Organization and its goals...or until such time as we are judged incapable of doing so and our program is eliminated entirely."

            They had remained standing thus far, but as Whitmore's words sank in, Havel turned and dropped limply into the chair he had so recently vacated.  A quick glance up confirmed that the techs had finished unhooking the mutant from all the monitoring equipment and were now wheeling it from the room.  Havel simply watched numbly, not looking at Whitmore as he sank into the chair next to him - the one Meier usually used.

            "So, what the hell's going on, then?" he asked in an almost conversational tone.  "Don't the idiots running this show realize that I can't provide them with these 'weapons' they want so badly without sufficient research?  Do they think it's a matter of just adding water and 'voila', instant tool?  And besides," he continued, voice still calm, "what about the power-converters we've been warehousing for the last year and a half?  What is Scourge, if not a weapon?  Or Touchstone?  What do they expect?" 

            It seemed almost unreal at this point.  He'd been waiting for literally months to get his hands on this one.  Anticipating the chance to examine an almost fully grown example of such catastrophic mutation, not to mention the unique nature of its purported powers.  And now this....  He looked away from the empty exam room and met Whitmore's eyes, waiting for his answer.

            "The 'idiots running the show' as you so...aptly...put it, my friend, do not see the long-term benefits of understanding and controlling mutants.  They simply want results.  Now.  They are tired of waiting."  He looked away as he spoke, staring fixedly into some unseen distance, but Havel could read his frustration without the need to see his expression.  It dripped from every word he spoke.  

            "They have invested considerable funds in our enterprise over the last five years and," he continued, "in return, they want to see tools they can put to use immediately.  Not a handful of walking artillery and flame-throwers which will only be of use two years or more down the line, when it is time to create a public perception of danger and threat.  Not a mentally unstable organic torture device or a third-rate tame telepath.  They want something that can be put into the field NOW, in a way that will significantly advance the organization's long-term plans.  _That_ is what they feel their investment in our little operation here should have purchased and _that_ is exactly what we are going to give them.  We have been given six months," he paused and finally turned to meet Havel's eyes again.  "We will present them with a weapon like no other in three."

            Havel had absolutely no doubt that the older man meant every word.  His program and his reputation within the Organization were riding on it, and he obviously had no intention of sacrificing either.  The only question remaining was, "How, exactly, are you planning on accomplishing this miraculous feat?"  His expertise was in studying and analyzing the creatures, after all, not in breaking, training or using them.  He had absolutely no idea how one would make practical use of the creature's powers - and frankly, didn't really care beyond how it would affect his ability to continue his life's work.  His concern was understanding, manipulating, even augmenting them - for no other reason than to satisfy his insatiable desire to know.  Practicalities were beneath him.

            "It's quite simple Havel," and the man cocked an eyebrow jauntily at him, his previous irritation apparently forgotten in his enthusiasm for his plan.  "There's absolutely no place the creature can't go with no more effort than a thought.  It disappears in shadows.  It even clings to walls."  His voice had become eager and his eyes were almost burning as he spoke.  "Can you even begin to imagine a better skill-set for an assassin or a thief?  It's possibly even a bonus that it looks like some kind of demon straight from hell."

            Whitmore stood up now and began pacing restlessly as he continued to speak.  "It's a shame that we don't have time for all the base-line tests you'd like to run Edward.  It would be useful for comparison once we begin augmentation, but we simply can't afford to waste time at this point.  Our budget's been somewhat precarious for the past six months - you've noticed the staff reductions, you've certainly complained about them enough.  But this, this should solve our problems.  A few days in sensory deprivation and then we'll let Scourge work it over.  And don't worry, once its training starts, you can resume some testing as the schedule allows.  We will need to understand the limits of its abilities after all.

            "And you still have the others, so your research is not to be totally derailed.  The little one - the one that walks through things - should be quite useful as well to the Organization as well, of course.  But you can keep it for now, I don't have time or personnel to spare for her training at the moment.  Once we've proven our value with the demon I should have both the time and money to break and train that one at leisure."

            Havel nodded in silent agreement.  He understood the difficulty of Whitmore's position under the circumstances and the necessity of moving things along with this particular subject.  At least the others weren't affected, but it did rankle that he was losing access to the most remarkable specimen to come into his hands in almost two decades of mutant research.  But it couldn't be helped.  Must make the best of a bad situation, after all.  He'd been in worse.  

            Whitmore was standing to leave as he spoke, but Havel didn't bother to rise to see him out.  His mind was already running over plans and alternatives.  Deciding which of the other subjects to begin the sequence on.  The redhead perhaps.  She was listed as a telekinetic in the profile they'd assembled on her, but Touchstone's brief dip into each subjects mind when they'd first been brought in had yielded the unexpected information that she was likely a relatively powerful telepath.  Of course, that analysis must be taken with a grain of salt, considering it was offered by a telepath of such dramatically limited gifts.  In any case, analysis of her brain patterns should be most interesting.          

            "Oh, and Havel," the other man's voice broke into his thoughts and he looked up in irritation.  Why on earth hadn't he left yet?

            "It would probably be best if you moved on to the redhead next.  Get your base-line studies out of the way so that we can dispose of it.  No point paying to feed or contain it any longer than necessary, after all - budget, you know.  The man's tone was bland and conversational and Havel had to pause for a moment as he processed the import of the words.

            "Dispose of it?" he asked in consternation.  "What on earth do you mean -"

            "Just what I said," Whitmore interrupted, and one bushy eyebrow crept up in faint surprise.  "Surely you're not squeamish about putting one of them down if necessary?  You've certainly burned through enough of them in the last five years.  And really, what point is there in keeping it once you've gotten your baseline?  Touchstone was quite clear that it is an alpha level telepath, and you know the policy on those.  It's of no use - either practical or scientific - if it can never be allowed out of its restraint collar.  It's a shame really.  The telekinesis could have been quite useful."  He trailed off for a moment, obviously contemplating the loss of what could have been a valuable asset to the Organization.  "In any case," he resumed abruptly, his voice brisk again, "you can, of course, vivisect it when you're done."

            Whitmore was right, of course.  He realized that now that he thought about it logically.  They had learned through painful experience that it was simply too risky to try and manipulate high level telepaths.  If you well and truly broke them, they were of no real use, but if you didn't you were never truly safe from them.  The only way to safely hold a telepath was to keep it collared at all times, and under those circumstances the subject would be of no real use to his research.  Not once he had completed the base-line testing anyway.

            But Havel was a scientist, and it went against his nature to waste such a valuable, and scarce, resource.  While vivisection was, of course, the final useful contribution that all subjects would eventually make to the program, the sheer waste of sending a young, healthy female...of prime reproductive age...to the table was intolerable.  And, he realized with a flash of inspiration, totally unnecessary.  

            "Wait," he called at Whitmore's back as he made to exit.  "Wait.  It would be a waste to dispose of the telepath," he announced firmly.  He held up a hand at the skeptical look his superior shot him and continued.  "Just hear me out.  I'm sure you'll agree once you've heard my reasons."

            Whitmore eyed him for a moment, his doubt still evident, but finally nodded.  "Fine, go on."

            "Yes, she is useless for direct research and she has no practical value as a tool or a weapon.  But for _breeding_, man.  Just imagine if she breeds true."

            He paused and studied Whitmore for a moment, trying to see if the man had caught on to the beauty of his idea.  From the non-plussed look on his face, he determined that he hadn't.  "If she breeds true," Whitmore finally interjected, his voice dripping sarcasm, "we will be stuck disposing of _another_ useless alpha level telepath."

            "Don't you see?" Havel replied, his exasperation at the older man's lack of imagination only thinly veiled.  "Why are alpha level telepaths useless?" he asked rhetorically.  "Because we can neither trust nor completely control them.  But what if we raised one from the cradle?"  His voice was strong now, enthusiastic and confident as he imagined all the possibilities of watching such a power emerge.  Of augmenting and studying it from the beginning.  It would be fascinating.

            "Our problems arose because we were dealing with subjects who knew and remembered another life.  Who believed that they had alternatives and were entitled to more.  Take that away and just imagine the tool at your disposal."

            He watched Whitmore closely for his reaction, straining to determine if the other man agreed with, or even followed, his logic.  Whitmore was not a stupid man, far from it, but he was ruthless, single-minded and driven.  This program was his life, and nothing within his control would be allowed to interfere with its chances for success.  

            Really, though, this shouldn't be too great a stretch.  He'd been promised a breeding program from the beginning.  It was even in the official title of the facility - Mutant Research, Training and Breeding.  Its development had simply been stymied by the fact that they had not previously had in their possession a fertile female of suitable age.  While Touchstone was certainly old enough, she was, unfortunately, infertile.  The next oldest female in the pens was just past thirteen and, while technically fertile, was entirely too young to be safely bred.

            Whitmore stood silent for a long moment, his face unreadable, and Havel found that he was holding his breath.  "Which one would you breed her to?" he finally asked, his voice conveying an odd mix of interest and continued skepticism.

            Havel's mind raced as he realized that his answer to the question was likely to make or break his chance of salvaging the girl and beginning his long-awaited breeding program.  Which pairing was most likely to appeal to the program Director?  Which potential combination of powers would have the best chance of seizing his interest?  Of course, there was no guarantee that mutant offspring would inherit _any_ powers directly from either parent.  To his knowledge, no second gen breeding had ever been studied.  But there was no reason to inform Whitmore of that little detail.  

            He had been through his entire list of available males and was starting through again when it came to him.  Perfection.  A cross that Whitmore wouldn't be able to pass up.  He might not be a scientist after all, but he, like Havel, was more than capable of thinking in the long term.

            "The teleporter," he announced, meeting Whitmore's eyes with perfect confidence.  "Imagine the possibilities of a thief and assassin not only capable of going anywhere with a thought, but capable of plucking it's destination directly from an adversary's mind."

            He saw the slow dawn of comprehension in Whitmore's eyes and smiled in triumph.  She was his.  He would finally have his breeding program - as well as _another_ example of the creature's odd physiognomy to study from conception through manifestation and beyond.  

            "Your suggestion has much...promise," Whitmore announced, his voice low and rich with satisfaction.  He stared at Havel for a moment longer, eyes narrowed with calculation before he spoke again.  "I believe that this could even be worked beneficially into the demon's training."  He chuckled mirthlessly then, and his eyes were shining with malice when he met Havel's gaze.  "Oh yes, this _does_ have promise."

            He turned for the door, still laughing low in his throat.  "You may keep your toy Havel.  Just do make sure that it's collared at all times.  Oh, and you may keep it in the research wing when you are done with its testing.  No sense returning it to the pens when it's not to be trained, and you will doubtless want to monitor it closely.  Oh, and let me know when it's in heat and I'll...make arrangements for it to be serviced - _if_ it works into the demon's training schedule of course."

            "Of course," Havel murmured as the door slid closed behind the other man, already engrossed by plans and calculations.  He was, of course, still disappointed that he wouldn't get to do the detailed study he had anticipated on the....  Demon, had Whitmore called it?  Yes, demon.  How appropriate, really.

            In any case, he was extremely pleased with the consolation prize he had managed to salvage from the situation.  Yes, _extremely_ pleased and, not surprisingly, he really wasn't the least bit tired any more.  If only he could manage to get the little brunette into his breeding stable too - it would, after all, be good to have two of them for purposes of comparison - but that was probably too much to hope for considering Whitmore's assessment of her potential value as a weapon.  He'd just have to plan for a second breeding of the redhead.  Yes.  But to a different male or the same one again?  That would be a difficult call, but he'd have time to worry about it later.

            Closing the files on the demon's testing for the moment, he pulled up the redhead's initial work-up and began planning the course of her testing.  Then a room would need to be prepared, there was a good sized one just down the hall from the creche.  He'd need to brush up on his gynecological and obstetrical skills.  Make arrangements to have the other two subjects brought out of sedation and readied for testing.  Good God, could Meier and Arensen have been incapacitated at a more inconvenient time?  

*********************

            The silence was so complete that it was almost deafening.  No sound but his own labored breathing punctuated by intermittent gasps of pain.  Oh dear God he hurt.  He shifted restlessly, trying to find some comfort for his aching body on the hard, cold surface beneath him.  

            He knew there was something wrong.  He hurt, literally, everywhere.  He was lying face down on a surface that felt like nothing so much as concrete, especially where his battered face ground into its rough surface.  He was cold and...naked?  And disoriented in a way so profound that it clawed at his gut and set his shattered nerves afire.  It was all wrong.  He knew it, but his brain couldn't seem to piece it all together - and he wasn't sure he wanted to....

            Finally, though, through the haze of pain and confusion, fragments of nightmare and memory drifted back to him.  Kitty dropping by the road.  The drone of engines.  The terror of awakening naked, drugged and bound.  Anger.  Fear.  Pain. Rage.  Pain.  Blackness.  Pain.  

            Oh God.  He hadn't gotten away.  He hadn't gotten her - gotten them - away.  Oh God.  He was afraid to open his eyes.  Afraid to move.  Afraid to see what his failure had brought him to.

            He didn't know how long it was before he finally forced his eyes open to...darkness.  Darkness so thick and absolute that the only light was the muted glow provided by his own eyes.  Even Logan would have been blind in this, but Hank had long ago ceased to wonder at the fact that Kurt need no light to see and simply added it to the long list of things that he would likely never understand.  

            Kurt almost wished he were as blind as anyone else.  Would the walls, perhaps, not close in on him so if he couldn't actually _see_ that the room he was in was, in reality, a metal box no more than six feet on a side?  Still no sound but the hiss of his breath through his teeth and his grunt of pain as he levered himself laboriously to hands and knees, his hocks pressed up against the wall behind him.  He looked around, panic rising as he did so.  

            No windows.  No door.  No light.  No hope.  No.

            He lurched awkwardly to his feet, tail lashing and leaning heavily on the wall for support as he did so, and felt the ceiling pressing down on him even as the walls closed in.  He could touch it without so much as stretching out his arm.  He reached a hand up to run through his hair nervously - and stopped, frozen, as it settled on inch-long stubble punctuated by four completely bald patches...about the right size and shape for sensor pads.

            His breath came in panicked gasps and his tail ceased lashing, instead wrapping tightly around his leg.  No!  This could not be happening.  He rubbed weakly at his arms, not sure if he was cold because of the temperature or because of his fear - and stopped again as his fingers ran across more shaved patches...at his left elbow, the back of his right hand.....  

            Frantically now, he ran his hands across his chest and belly.  More shaved patches.  A low moan escaped him as his trembling fingers found a small, straight incision, neatly stitched, low on his left side.  

            No.  NO.

            He threw himself at a wall, ignoring the flares of pain everywhere as he did so.  Ignoring the dull, metallic thud of his flesh connecting with unyielding metal.

            NO!

            This couldn't have happened.  He couldn't be here.  He couldn't! 

            NO!

            He didn't notice when he found his voice.  Didn't notice when his protests shifted to inarticulate moans of terror and pain.  Hardly noticed anything at all as the pain and fear rose and crescendoed until they filled every inch of the blackness both within and without.  Until blackness merged with blackness and, thankfully, he knew no more...for a time.

*********************

            "Sir?"  The radio on Felix Whitmore's desk crackled into life.  

            "Yes."

            "It woke up sir."

            "And?"

            "An' it threw itself at the walls an' howled until it knocked itself out, sir.  Should we go in and check on it?"

            "No.  That won't be necessary.  It seems a sturdy enough creature.  Let me know what happens when it wakes up next."

            "Yes, sir."

            In the silence that followed, Whitmore folded his hands before him on his desk and smiled.  


End file.
